


Laughing Fire

by Ias



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gabriel Big Bang Challenge, Gabriel sucks at being a god, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ias/pseuds/Ias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thousands of years before Sam and Dean Winchester kick-start the Apocalypse, Gabriel leaves home and abandons his name. People call him Loki now, and he quickly discovers that his new identity is so much more than a clever cover and a fake name. He soon faces danger, adventure, giants, battles, monsters, and prophecies as he struggles to adapt to a world that he might be destined to destroy. Draws heavily from Norse mythology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laughing Fire

There's a field on the outside of the village, and it's on fire.

Technically the village is on fire as well, but it's the field that Gabriel has his eyes on. The grass is dry from the summer and the flames tear into it hungrily, crackling closer and closer to the edge of the forest. Yellow tongues lick up the bottom of the tree trunks, and wicked embers leap from the pit below to dance around the leaves. With a sputter and a crack, a sapling is overcome. Gabriel smiles grimly. It looks like the whole forest might burn.

He walks through the streets, stepping around the occasional fallen cart or body he might see. The heat beats against his face like a roar, but he pays it no mind. The only flames that can harm him are borne from holy oil, and there’s little enough of that floating around this place.

It’s funny, really. Every time he snatches a little moment away from heaven, away from the deafening screech of his brothers cries and the reverberating silence where his father’s voice should be, he never seeks out the solace of some peaceful little glade or lagoon. He appears on battlefields, in quarantine zones, in forest fires. It seemed that violence could only breed more violence. Maybe he was afraid that if he found some escape from the turmoil upstairs, he wouldn’t want to go back.

With a crash, one of the huts to his left caves in, turning the inside into a fiery maelstrom. There was no one inside, but if there was, they would have turned to charred bone in a second. It's not the houses or the people that concern him, though. He keeps walking, bare feet cushioned by a layer of ash on the ground, and makes for the temple.

Out of all the buildings, it has survived the most. The stone walls darken with soot but refuse to yield, although the inside is dense with smoke. Gabriel clears it with a wave of his hand, revealing the shattered tiles and upturned oils. The temple has been spared from looting, though. Looking to the wall across from him, Gabriel thinks he might know why.

The entire back wall of the church is encrusted with tiles, beautiful chips of glazed pottery laid into a plaster setting there. The smoke and debris from the fire has laid a tarnish on the design, destroying all but the vaguest details. A dark shape looms from it, its burning red eyes throwing back the light of the fire like something living. The image sends a shiver down Gabriel's spine.

"You." The voice comes from behind him, where a second ago he left the doorway empty. Standing there now is a tall woman staring down her hooked nose at him, a red sari draped around her shoulders. Her hair is long and black, and parts of it tumble over her shoulders to swing down near the tops of her hips. The true form that stretches out around her body in a nimbus of sapphire blue is a pretty big hint that she isn't human.

"What are you?" she asks again, nostrils flaring, dark eyes sweeping over him like a hot, scouring wind.

"They call me lots of things," he replies in Hindi. "Not all of them complimentary, and none of which I feel particularly inclined to tell you." There’s no real reason for him to lie, but a strange feeling curls through him that it might be a good idea. “I was merely admiring your work. It’s pretty nice, for a pagan.”

"Your condescension is noted," the woman replies. Her voice is taut and low, like the groan of wood before it cracks in a flame. "Now leave. I have little time or patience for outsiders here."

Gabriel’s smile tightens. "Sorry, I don’t do well with following orders. Least of all from petty back-country idols."

The woman's eyes narrow. "Your choice.”

The force of the flames that slam into Gabriel’s front is enough to send him sprawling backwards, his vessel’s bones twisted and his skin bubbling. Gabriel repairs it with a thought and climbs back to his feet, dusting the remains of the charred earth off his palms. The woman stands before him still, the flames licking around her form like playful pets, her eyes alight with it.

Gabriel smiles, conjuring up some flames of his own. They glow blue and green in contrast, and overtake the reds wherever they touch. It’s powerful enough to melt the essence of any being stupid or unfortunate enough to end up on the receiving end of them. Stepping forward, he lobs an undulating ball of it towards the woman’s head, and for a moment she’s consumed in the unnatural colors. Gabriel allows himself a brief moment of triumph when suddenly the fire expands outwards with a whoosh, washing over his face like a cold ocean wind.

She stands in the crater his magic has scoured, darkness and flames coiling back around her bare feet and extending their tendrils back to him. Gabriel can sense the full extent of her power now, whipping and lashing around him in every tongue of fire, power enough to rival even his own. The spark of holy fire burns at the tips of his fingers, but he doesn’t release it; partly because if he does, every angel in heaven will instantly know where he is and drag him back into the fray. But also because he is not sure that he would win. The uncertainty is almost refreshing.

He laughs, raking fingers through hair which he only now remembers to grow back. “Alright, so you’ve got some juice.”

“In that you are correct," she says. “For the second and last time, get out. I am consecrating this ground, and I wouldn’t have your outsider’s stench contaminating it.”

“At least tell me your name,” Gabriel says, not really sure what compels him to do so. “I’m used to being at least marginally acquainted with those that knock me on my ass.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” she says, but hesitates. “Should they ask, you may tell them that you met defeat at the hands of Kali, the Destroyer.” Gabriel has never been fond of epithets, but he has to admit it’s an impressive one.

“Well-met, Kali,” he says with a flippant bow.

A wry smile twists her lips. “You consider this to be ‘well’? Your introductions must be very poor indeed.”

“Social interaction is not my strong point,” Gabriel says. “You may have noticed.”

“I have,” Kali agrees. “For your sake, I hope your goodbyes are more sedate.”

“And here I was thinking we were just becoming friends. There’s no better bonding exercise than setting each other on fire.”

“I have no need of friends,” Kali snaps.

“Me neither.” Gabriel isn’t entirely sure what he’s saying or why; this goddess should be nothing to him, yet he finds himself fascinated. Like a moth to the flame, he can’t help but think.

Kali looks about ready to try and cook him again, and although the turmoil up in heaven makes him sick to his core, it’s still preferable to being charred into cinders.

“I’m leaving,” he assures her, raising his hands. “In the future perhaps we will meet under less fiery circumstances.”

Kali smiles grimly. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

And with that he takes to the air, his wings still unperceivable as they propel him through the air. The burning forest fades behind him to a yellow scar on the land before being swallowed up by a cloud bank. The water droplets are cool and brisk on his vessel’s skin, but Gabriel finds himself longing for the same dry heat snapping against his skin.

With a reckless smile, he rockets himself to the stars, wrapping himself in stardust and the empty gasp of space. What need does he have of simple goddesses and their flashy tricks when he already has this? He spreads his grace and throws out his human arms, and makes himself forget the fire.

 

* * *

 

_Loki spake:_   
_"Thirsty I come | into this thine hall,_   
_I, Lopt, from a journey long,_   
_To ask of the gods | that one should give_   
_Fair mead for a drink to me._

Falling was the easy part. It’s in picking himself back up that things get complicated.

He touches down on grassy a hill in the middle of nowhere, leaving an open scar of earth behind him as smashes into the ground. After a moment he lurches to his feet, the night air cold and raw on his vessel’s skin. His eyes swoop over the empty blue landscape without taking any of it in as he stumbles away from the crash site. The silence in his mind is like a wet heavy blanket thrown over his head, the voices of the Host snuffed out.

This is it. He’s out. Yet even though his head is silent for the first time in his existence, he knows he hasn’t changed a thing. The deep-seated knowledge of what is going to happen is still lodged in the back of his head. It’s no ordinary form of knowing; this is something cosmic, written into the very fabric of his grace. The apocalypse is still going to happen whether he’s in it or not; that much he knows.  
But Michael and Lucifer can fight their own battles: he won’t be caught up in it and he won’t watch either of them die. His lungs contract in a short, pained gasp; he wraps his arms around his chest and sinks into a crouch, confused and in pain. There’s moisture under his eyes—he wipes it away. His vessel has never done this before, and he doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s not frightened, he tells himself, but the trembling in his hands that he can’t seem to control is something terrifying all in itself. The warm buzz of voices that he could always retreat to before is gone now. He’s on his own, his body is malfunctioning, and soon they’ll be looking for him.

He wonders how long his brothers will take to notice that he’s gone. When he left, he didn’t blow the metaphorical door off its hinges and disappear in an explosion of light and a giant “FUCK YOU” painted across the sky. He’d fantasized about leaving so many times in the moments he’d escaped to Earth that when the time actually came he’d simply slipped away. Michael and Lucifer had been ripping through the very fabric of heaven, screaming and clawing and oblivious to anything but their own fighting. Raphael was busy trying to intervene, but it was only a matter of time before he looked to Gabriel to help pull them apart, and found him gone. Once that happened he would have mere minutes before the Host swarmed to his grace like a beacon.

He stands up and forces his hands to his sides. His grace is still tender and raw from being torn away from heaven, but already it’s scabbing over and closing in on itself. Gabriel has to move fast, while it’s still malleable. It’s not enough for him to throw on a disguise to trick the other creatures anymore. Any discerning member of heaven could see through that sort of thing in no time. If he’s going to remain undetected, he has to change himself completely. And it’s not going to be pleasant.

Taking a few quick, short breaths to steady himself, he closes his eyes and digs into his own grace, ripping into it to tear out chunks that dissolve away like mist. He bites down the screams at first as he twists his shape into something new, destroying everything that made him Gabriel and building up something new. But before long he can’t hold his cries back any longer, and the field echoes with his screaming and flashes with bolts of pure, white light.

 

 

Three days later, Gabriel thinks he’s dying.

He can’t know for sure. To his knowledge, no one has done this sort of thing before, and so he has no point of reference. But ever since that night in the field when he tore his grace apart and forced it into something new, he’s been growing weaker and weaker by the day. He used up nearly all of his energy in carving a new shape from his grace, and ever since then his new body has been hemorrhaging power like blood from an open artery. Without reconnecting to the Host, he has no way of recuperating and drawing energy from the outside. Which was the exact reason why he has visited the seats of twelve different Pantheons of gods in the past seventy-two hours, and is currently surrounded by a band of surly Norse-looking warrior gods.

The stone floor is cold on his vessel's bare feet as he stands at the foot of a shallow set of stairs, his neck craned back she he can lock eyes with the old man on the throne. He would look like someone's senile old grandfather, if it weren't for the armor and the eye patch and the two massive ravens perching on the wings of his fancy chair. The nimbus of cosmic power blooming around his vessel's body was also a bit of a giveaway, outshining the energy of any other god in the room.

So not really much like an old grandfather at all, then. Either way, Gabriel is losing patience. More importantly, he’s about five seconds away from collapsing from exhaustion.

"Well?" he demands, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot pointedly and trying not to sway. "What's your answer?"

"The Pantheon of Norse Gods is not simply some 'club' that you can 'sign yourself up for'," the old guy, otherwise known as Odin, said with a stern raise of his eyebrows. Gabriel could practically taste the scorn. The only reason he hadn't been thrown out of Valhalla on the spot was the power he was currently exuding. It flickers and seethes around him in a white-hot glare to anyone with the powers to perceive it, comparable even to Odin's. Although not quite, Gabriel notices with some irritation. He forces it down. This is not the time.

"I realize this is a bit unorthodox," Gabriel says instead. Courtesy has never been his strong suit, but he'd discovered it to be a necessity. Having the full force of the heavenly Host standing at his back had done wonders for making people more placid, but it appears those days are behind him. He forces a tight smile onto his vessel's lips. "I'm also sure, however, that in this case you will make an exception."

"You're sure, are you," Odin grumbles. "And they call me all-knowing."

"Well if that's truly the case, then you know what a valuable asset I could be," Gabriel says. "I have power."

"That you do. But what makes you think we have need of it?"

"People always need power. Gods are no different, I've found." Gabriel glances at the crowd assembled in Odin's throne room. They're giving him a wide berth, though more likely in case Odin turns out to be in the smiting mood than any fear of his real power. Their forms are many, but most of them wear the thick furs and leathers that one might expect to find from the northern gods. None of them look very likely to leap to his defense.

"This is quite a strange situation," Odin says, leaning back in his throne.

"But not one without precedent. New gods rise every day. You've seen what a big deal that Athena turned out to be."

"Don't speak to me of Athena," Odin growls, grinding his yellowed teeth. "I can hear her boasting of her superior prowess in battle all the way from Valhalla. There's trouble enough in the realms without fresh gods springing up everywhere you try to step."

He's going to send me away, Gabriel realizes. Or perhaps he'd just smite him where he stood. What an appropriate ending to the Messenger, reduced to cosmic flotsam in the bowels of some northern wasteland.

“Throw him off the Bifrost!” a voice shouts from the front of the crowd. Gabriel locks eyes with a handsome, dark-haired god with a wide smile. It’s the smile of a person accustomed to speaking without thinking and winking away the consequences. Gabriel dislikes him instantly.

“Quiet, Baldur. I’m thinking,” Odin says curtly.

"Must we be so harsh in our judgment of this newcomer?" One of the attending gods steps forward, a massive creature with a thick blonde braid and a horned helmet that makes him look like a massive ox. He regards Gabriel not unkindly. "This creature is clearly diminished, weak, in need of our help. There must be something we can do."

Hearing the words spoken aloud makes Gabriel's grace riot and twist with fury, though he knows them all to be true. He could feel his power dwindling with each passing day after he left the Host. It wouldn't fade entirely, not with an entity such as himself, but alone he is harshly weakened. He needs a source to replenish it, which is exactly what brings him here.

"Thor is right," another says, her long golden hair swaying as she steps forward. "We are above the petty ills of our southern cousins, to turn away a guest from our door like savages."

"This much is true," Gabriel says, latching onto this tiny thread like a piece of driftwood in a flood. "When I sought my audience with Zeus he had me thrown into the metaphorical streets. More literally, he threw me off Mount Olympus."

A tide of tongue-clicking and quiet murmurs of disapproval rises up through the chamber. Clearly the Greeks are a sore nerve with these people, and one Gabriel can potentially exploit.

"I came to your doorstep in the knowledge that you are much more honorable," Gabriel says, a more malicious smile spreading across his face. Odin can't very well turn him down now without appearing to be as rude and unsavory as Zeus. To be fair, Gabriel might have elaborated on the details of his treatment in Olympus, but Zeus was still very much an asshole.

"Perhaps we might be able to come to some form of agreement," Odin says at last. "The house of Odin is as just as it is righteous. You may take your place among us as a lowly fire spirit, and through valor and honor you will have the chance to improve yourself."

It's a paltry prize, but Gabriel must take it nonetheless. With every Pantheon he visits his options grow less and less, and if he turns down the first real chance he's gotten yet he doesn't know when he'll get his next. So he hoists a grateful smile and fights down the bitter bile in his throat, sinking to one knee and bowing his head.

"You do me a great honor, Allfather," he says, his voice as smooth as satin.

"Yes, I do," Odin agrees. "Do you have a name, spirit?"

"They call me Lopt." Gabriel is quite proud of that one. He'd spent quite a lot of time coming up with it.

"Lopt? A strange name. By my power as King and Father of the gods, from this point on you shall be known as Loki."

Gabriel rises to his feet. "Loki. It does have a nice ring to it. I will wear it proudly." He hates it, but that hardly matteres. It’s only a mask, another facet to this ruse he was constructing for himself. A lone angel would stand out like a beacon, but a minor god in an extensive pantheon would easily be overlooked. As miserable as things look for him now, they’re nothing compared to what had driven him away in the first place.

"Thor, Sif, since you both seem so eager to vouch for this newcomer, I would have you watch after him in his early days. Ensure that he finds his place among us comfortably." Which translated to, 'make sure the outsider isn't going to mess anything up too terribly.' The last thing Gabriel wants is to be babysat, but he could have worse. Thor looks pleased at the thought of meeting someone new, and Sif doesn't seem outwardly hostile. It could be that having some guides could be to his benefit, anyways.

The hall starts to clear out as the echoes of Odin's pronouncement die from the rafters. Gods disappear into drafts of smoke that curled out the open doors, or slip into the skins of wolves or bears before vanishing into the air. Gabriel takes the door. Such displays are tacky.

Thor and Sif drag him around Asgard for what feels like eternity, giving him the full tour. He’s so tired he can scarcely stay on his feet, but he forces himself to stay sharp and pay as much attention as he can. This information might prove useful later, in some way. Though probably not.

“And to our left, we have the magnificent rainbow bridge known as the Bifrost!” Thor exclaims. “You must have seen it when you first arrived here.” Actually, Gabriel had flown in. But he nods all the same.

“So tell me, Loki,” Sif says. “Where did you come from? It’s not often to see a being with your level of power merely spring up out of nowhere.”

Luckily Gabriel had thought of his cover story beforehand. “I was borne from a minor tribe to the east that was wiped out by an influx of the pox. With nowhere else to turn, I decided to seek other options.”

Thor nods. “A wise choice. These are dangerous times we live in, and it is best not to be alone.”

I am alone. Gabriel doesn’t say it.

“You may rest for tonight in any place of your choosing,” Thor says. “But tomorrow you must go to see the Norns.”

Gabriel glances at him in question. “What’s a Norn?”

“They’re weavers of fate,” Sif says. “That sounds dramatic, but it’s the best way of putting it. You’ll need to visit them so that they can begin weaving you into our own Pantheon. They will tell you what your fate is.”

“Right, I’ll do that.” Yet another blatant lie, but Gabriel has become quite good at them. His entire existence, he’s had the knowledge of what was supposed to happen humming in the back of his head; the apocalypse is like a stone in his shoe that follows him everywhere. The last thing he plans on doing is giving it a friend.

 

* * *

 

 

Asgard is nice enough as far as celestial kingdoms go. The endless green fields and snow-capped mountains are a strange shift from the floating halls of heaven, everything just as bleak as it is beautiful. There’s a wildness here that Gabriel isn’t used to, more of a feeling than something he can put a finger on. It ruffles his grace like a bad wind, making him want to spread his wings and take to the sky. He doesn’t. He has to be careful now. If he’s discovered, they’ll drag him back to heaven and undoubtedly start another holy war in his name. Better to keep a low profile.

The boredom is relentless, and by the third day it has nearly crippled him from within. For now all he’s allowed to do is sit in on some boring rituals and give visions to some schmuck gazing into the fire. Grunt work, as he thinks of it. The kind of thing that can be accomplished by minor nature spirits. If Lucifer could see him now he would never hear the end of it.

All of the other gods have special halls built in Asgard where they spend their free time eating and drinking and fucking and whatever else the pagans do for fun. Gabriel isn’t really the building type, so he’s been sleeping in a makeshift tent propped up with some sticks in the middle of a rocky gully. Ideally he would be able to snap his fingers and magick an entire palace into being around him, but his power was low and he saw no point in wasting it. Just having some tiny like place to stake out as his own was strangely comforting, in a way. He had never put much stock in material things, but they did have their own comforts.

The longer Gabriel says, the worse things get. The crushing silence in his head where the voices of his brothers and sisters used to form a constant backdrop is enough to send him howling into madness, and that was without the constant little irritations that were his duties as a new Norse spirit. On top of that, the nagging knowledge that he hasn’t changed anything still tugs at him at every moment. He’s miserable, humiliated, desperate for any contact with heaven that he can find. At night he tilts his head back and looks at the stars, imagining wings spread across them. The loneliness threatens to crush him.

And so, he decides to go home.

Thor and Sif have been much less concerned with making sure Gabriel isn’t making any trouble, as there’s some important Norse harvest festival going on that Gabriel should probably be attending. He’ll have to start getting the hang of that sort of thing if he’s going to make it as a pagan. They’ll be time for that later, though. He draws his grace closer around himself and conjures up some mundane clothing—he still has the power for that, at least. Thus disguised, he sets out in the direction of the Bifrost. He can slip away when no one is looking and drag himself back to heaven to beg for forgiveness.

The topography of Asgard is strange. It’s all so very corporeal, like someone scooped-up a handful of earth and yanked it into the cosmic plane. There were differences though, things that didn’t seem to translate from reality to whatever this place was. A fringe of green pine needles brush over his shoulders as he passes beneath them, but their touch felt hot instead of cool and wet. At one point he nearly stumbles into a giant hole in the ground, dropping down into what looks like a second sky far beneath the earth. He makes a note to explore it later.

The Bifrost itself is hard to describe, and impossible for mortal eyes to perceive. It’s more like a tunnel than a bridge, or a river of light hanging in the air with its currents eddying dangerously. It looks like a fun ride. Gabriel steps forward.

“Halt.” A figure in iron-grey armor with long black hair detaches from nowhere in particular and steps into Gabriel’s path. His form is much taller than Gabriel’s current one, the power he holds stretching out even further above him. Formidable is the word that comes to mind.

“Hi,” Gabriel says nonchalantly. “And you are?”

The god ignores him. “You wish to cross the Bifrost?”

“That’s the idea of it, yes.”

“Too bad. Run back to your hovel, sprite.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrow, but a cruel smile creeps onto his lips. “Oh, I see. You’re the troll under the bridge, are you? Are you going to eat me up?”

“I would prefer not to. Skewering you like a pig on a spit, however, would give me great pleasure.” As he speaks an enormous spear appears in his hand, reflecting the shifting colors of the Bifrost on its point.

“Kinky,” Gabriel replies, eying the weapon with caution nonetheless. He’s in no shape for a fight right now, despite how much he’d like to teach this pagan not to mess with an archangel. The thought of backing down, though, makes him feel violently sick. “I’m always up for a good skewering, but generally I prefer it from someone who knows how to use their weapon.”

“I would be happy to give you a demonstration.”

Gabriel sighs through his nose. “Is there a particular reason why you’ve decided that you hate me?”

“Baldur has warned me of your dubious nature. I will not suffer a traitor in Asgard.”

Loki bites on his tongue as he imagines handsome, well-mannered Baldur slipping his reasonable words into Heimdall’s ear. He was perfectly right of course, but Loki resented the fact that Baldur saw right through him. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that murdering one of your fellow gods on your own ground would also be considered traitorous.”

“You are no god. Merely a pretender.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Gabriel smiled grimly. He was tired of games, and the Host awaited. “Good conversation is truly lost on you pagans, isn’t it?”

“A problem which generally removes itself when I cut out the tongues of impudent spirits.” He raises his spear.

“Heimdall!” the voice comes from just behind Gabriel, making him jolt with surprise. Thor is hurrying up to him with a big smile plastered on his face, Sif trailing in his wake. They both look rather frazzled, like they had arrived there quickly.

“Thor, Sif,” so-called Heimdall said, his hostility shrinking back behind a veneer of begrudging politeness. “I apologize, I did not see you here.”

“Yes, I’m afraid we were running a bit late,” Thor says, clapping a massive hand on Gabriel’s shoulders. “We were just about to show Loki here around some of the other realms.”

Heimdall looks like Thor has just stuffed a lemon into his mouth and punched him in the stomach, but pained smile forces its way onto his lips. “You will accompany him, then?”

“But of course! We can’t have our new friend wandering around the Nine Realms un-chaperoned—he might get lost!”

“What a pity that would be,” Heimdall said through gritted teeth.

"Well, that's our cue," Gabriel says brightly, slapping Heimdall on the side of his arm as he passes. "Don't wait up for us, my dear. And put a smile on that face!" He wishes he could rush back to see the expression on Heimdall's face, but just imagining it is pleasure enough. Thor and Sif stay close at his sides as they step into the Bifrost, the current of light tugging at their skin and clothes as they walk down it. Their pace stays the same, but things seem to slip past them quickly all the same. It's a strange feeling, like being carried by water.

"You and Heimdall did not seem to be having a very civil discussion," Sif observes after a moment.

"He refused to let me pass," Gabriel says stiffly. "I took issue with that."

"You shouldn't antagonize him," she says.

"I could have taken him in a fight."

"Firstly, I doubt that to be true. Heimdall is one of the more powerful of our number, you are arguably the least. Second, did it occur to you that the best way to acclimate yourself to this Pantheon might not be picking battles with every god that prickles your pride?"

Gabriel has nothing to say to that.

"Why were you trying to leave Asgard?" Thor's expression is shrewd.

Gabriel sighs. Another day, another lie. With his powers so depleted, he had no chance against the strength of Thor and Sif combined. Heaven would have to wait another day. "I was bored. I just wanted some fresh air that wasn't manufactured by some cosmic entity."

"Well, why didn't you say so sooner!" Thor boomed. "We will show you all the wonders the Nine Realms have to offer! Sif and I have travelled quite often together."

"Don't you have a harvest festival to go to or something?"

"What, those?" Thor looks slightly guilty.

"Those things are a waste of time," Sif says, waving her hand. "Just lots of sitting around listening to humans extol our greatness. As if we needed mortals to tell us that. It'll be good to get out for a while."

"So where would you like to go?" Thor asks, making a complex gesture in the air. A series of tears seem to rip themselves into the fabric of the Bifrost, a different landscape peeking out from behind each. Gabriel makes a note to learn how to do that.

"There's Svartleheim, Alfheim, Vanaheim, and of course you know Midgard," he says, pointing at each portal respectively. Gabriel peers at them all with vague interest until his eyes light on one in particular. At first it looks like nothing but a plain of white, but as Gabriel peers closer he makes out the vague outline of mountains and snow being tossed against a cloudy sky. He turns back to his guides.

"What is that place?" he asks, gesturing to it vaguely. Thor and Sif immediately look uncomfortable.

"That's Niflheim," Sif explains in a quiet voice. "Realm of ice, giants, and the underworld. It is not safe to go there."

Gabriel doesn't even have to think about it. "Alright. Let's do it." He takes a step towards the white portal with a grim smile on his face.

Thor seizes his vessel's arm. "No, Loki, we mustn’t," he says urgently. " We are not welcome in such places, Aesir or Vanir alike."

"I am neither, remember?" Gabriel smiles. "What's the fun in going only places you're welcome? In my old...job, there was nowhere I couldn't go."

"And what was your old job?" Sif asks.

Gabriel shrugs. "Messenger boy. Nothing glamorous." He raises an eyebrow. "Are you two in or out?"

Thor and Sif exchange a look, some kind of silent conversation taking place on their faces as Thor looks dubious and a slow flush of excitement creep's over Sif's face. She steps forward beside Gabriel.

"Sif..." Thor says.

"Come on, Thor," she says with a smile. "It's been a while since we've had any real fun."

Thor sighs, but after one more moment of deliberation he steps forward with them.

"Heimdall will not be happy about this," he mutters. Gabriel grins and steps through the portal.

All at once it's like his grace is being yanked out of his vessel's pores, inverted, then stuffed back inside him. His stomach lurches, the world tilts, and suddenly he's colder than he has ever felt in his life. In the brief moment before his human eyes adjust he thinks that there's some animal tearing at his clothing, but he soon realizes it's just a fierce wind blowing from seemingly all directions at once. A thick powdery snow whips around the air around them without settling on the ground, which is rock and ice and inhospitable. There's a sort of negative energy in the air that seems to suck at his grace, drawing it further out of his vessel until he can quickly retract it.

Sir and Thor stare out at the horizon dispassionately, their faces unreadable. "We should move on," Thor says after a moment. "I like this wind very little."

There's no path or marker, but Gabriel's guides seem to know where they're going. They trudge through the white and grey landscape, seemingly unchanging except for the occasional flash of an enormous bird wheeling by in the sky above. Gabriel is beginning to feel like this wasn't such a good idea after all.

That feeling is compounded when a sudden shape appears out of the haze just a few feet in front of them. It's impossible large, with shaggy white fur on its shoulders whipping around in the wind. Its skin is craggy and pale, looking more like stone than flesh. Dull, massive claws hang from the tips of its thick fingers.

"Asgardians," it says, its voice a menacing rumble. "Why have you come?"

"We have the right to walk the realms as we please, giant," Thor says, his hand shifting to the hilt of his sword pointedly. Suddenly two daggers are in Sif's hands that weren't there before, though she keeps them held loosely at her sides. Gabriel starts to wish he had a weapon of some sort himself. One of the first things he had done was to throw away his sword and horn, and he feels their absence most keenly now.

The giant seems to ponder that. "You wish to see King Ymir?" he asks at last.

"No, we—" Thor is cut off as a wall of new shapes lumbers out of the snow, pressing in on them with their presence. Each one seems different in some way, as small dogs or as large as houses, some going on all fours like bears and others as spindly as mantises. They all seem to be made of the same strange combination of stone and fur, with fleshier gaps and veins spidering across their bodies. Gabriel feels more fascination than fear. He's never seen beings such as these before.

"The Asgardians have come to see the King," the first giant proclaimed. "Escort them to the throne room." It's all the three gods can do but follow, hemmed in by a circle of giants on all sides. Their eyes are a bright flash of blue in the storm every time one of them sneaks a glance at their guests. They seem to look at Gabriel more than either of them, and he returns their glances with a stony glare.

“So, uh,” Gabriel whispers to Sif as they’re marched onwards. “What can we expect from this King guy, anyway?”

Sif shoots him a look. “Well, he likes to eat people. Usually alive.”

Gabriel swallows. “Right then.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, an enormous mound of rock the size of a mountain looms up above them. Gabriel catches a quick glance of the gate towering what must be hundreds of feet above them before they're ushered inside. If he were human, the interior would have taken his breath away. As it is, he only widens his eyes.

The entire mountain is hollowed-out, with massive pillars cascading from the ceiling in rough, un-hewn columns. Just ahead of them the floor drops out into a dark pit, lit by a cool blue glow. A massive stair curves down into the gloom, each stair so broad that it takes Gabriel five steps to cross it. Thor and Sif look apprehensive, hardly looking at their surroundings. For the first time Gabriel wonders if they've been here before, and the manner of the previous visit. There's no time to ask them now, though.

They climb down for what feels like hours, the air so cold it seems like a sudden movement might shatter it. They reach the bottom so suddenly that Gabriel nearly crashes into the frost giant in the lead, yanked back by Sif's hand in his collar at the last minute. They're standing in an audience chamber that seems impossibly large, the mountain above them nothing more than a pale glow. Blue crystals seep light onto the enormous throne where a massive frost giant lounges. He's bigger even than any of the others, so large it seems the massive room is built more out of necessity than style. Gabriel has to tilt his neck back just to see his face. His eyes are closed.

"King Ymir," one of the giants says respectfully.

Immediately four points of light snap open on the giant king's face, and he peers down at their party irritably. "What?" Gabriel almost laughs. He sounds like a cranky old man.

"We found these Asgardians wandering near the outer limits," the giant explains.

"Asgardians, eh?" Ymir leaned forward and squinted at them dubiously. "Your own fields and streams not good enough anymore? Well you can't have mine, I'll tell you that. Your warm-blooded balls'd freeze right off in a fortnight."

"We have no interest in taking your land, I assure you," Sif says, her voice loud and clear with a confidence Gabriel doubted she actually felt. "This was a mere misunderstanding."

"And what kind of misunderstanding was it that brought you to my lands in the first place?" Ymir asks, casting a shrewd glance over them.

"We merely wanted to show Loki the marvels of your kingdom," Thor says good-naturedly.

"Loki, eh? I haven't heard of him."

Thor rests a hand on the back of Gabriel's neck. "He is the newest of our number."

"Another one? As if the world needs more gods. You lot are breeding like rats up there as it is." Ymir stares at Gabriel in a discerning way that makes him very uncomfortable. "You're not like the other lot, though, are you? Something's off about you."

"Could it be my ravishing good looks?" Gabriel shoots back.

Ymir laughs, a sound that crumbles out of him like an earthquake. "This one's got spunk! I like that. You should find yourself a few more of these ones, that aren't all blowing hot air."

"Your approval always means so much to Asgard," Sif says sweetly. "I believe Loki has seen enough of your realm for now. With your leave, we would take him home."

"Nonsense!" A wicked gleam appears in the king's eye. "What sort of hospitality would it be to send my guests away so soon after arriving at my door? I insist you stay."

"Your hospitality is without repute," Sif says, the meaning behind her words quite different. "But we are expected back in Asgard quite soon. We must be going."

"Oh, I think not. You'll stay until I deem you to leave. I do so enjoy visitors." Ymir smiles nastily at all of them, revealing a set of sharp teeth the color of dried blood and the shape of wicked thorns. The giants around them seem to gather even closer, hemming them in on all sides. Gabriel doesn’t know much of anything about frost giants, but he imagines that whatever constitutes enjoyment for them is very unlikely to be enjoyable for himself. Sif and Thor back together until they’re pressed at either of his sides, their weapons drawn in earnest now. Gabriel takes a breath.

"Well you certainly seem to have us in a bind," he says cheerfully, winding a hand through each of his companions’ free ones. "You did, however, make one mistake."

Ymir smiled indulgently, seemingly unfazed. "And why do you say that?"

"You left the door open," Gabriel says. And with that, he takes to the air.

Sif and Thor gasp in surprise as he yanks them up with him, flashing past the astonished faces of the frost giants and narrowly avoiding being snatched out of the air by a massive set of fingers. The effort of flying without revealing his wings is enough to nearly send them veering off to the side and dash them against the side of the tunnel, but he grits his teeth and lets his grace surge. The blue icy walls whip by faster and faster until the white gash of the doorway opens up in front of them, and Gabriel sends them all tumbling outside and sliding onto the snow.

He picks himself up gingerly, surprised at the power he still feels in his grace. Perhaps he wasn't as weakened as he thought. Thor and Sif were clambering up at his sides, staring at him in amazement.

"Well," he says in a chipper tone. "That could have gone a lot worse."

Then he faints.

 

 

 

Gabriel comes to a while later, lying in a bed he doesn't recognize with Sif and Thor's worried faces looming over him. He stares up at them without understanding--he can't remember the last time he fell unconscious, and it's not an experience he'd like to repeat.

"Loki," Sif says, her relief palatable. "Good of you to join us."

"Argh," Gabriel replies, because at that moment he tries to sit up and every nerve in his vessel's body screams in protest. Thor pats a massive hand on his chest to keep him down.

"Rest for now, my friend. The magic you used to facilitate our escape has taken its toll on you, but Idunn has seen to you and claims you will recover quickly." Thor smiles. "You may well have saved our lives back there. We owe you our deepest thanks."

"Tell Heimdall to suck on that," Gabriel murmurs.

"I believe he would respond that it was you who got us into that spot of trouble in the first place," Sif says pointedly, but she can't hold back a smile. It fades quickly enough, though. "How did you get us out of there, Loki? That kind of power couldn't have come easily to you."

"Well it didn't really end all that well for me either, did it?" Gabriel says. His mind is still hazy and scattered, but he has to pull together some sort of lie if he's going to worm his way out of this one. "I've been marshalling my power for some time now, in case such a thing as this happened. It will be a long time before I'm capable of that sort of thing again."

Sif and Thor nod, although they exchange a quick look. Let them doubt, Gabriel thinks, his mind already swimming. He's too tired to care right now.

“Well, thank you,” Sif says after a pause. “I realize that it would have been much easier for you to have simply left us there, and escaped on your own. You’ve truly proved your worth today.”

“No problem,” Gabriel says distantly. To be honest, he hadn’t even considered the option of ditching his chaperones with the jotunns. That was strange. Ruthlessness usually came so easily to him.

“But Loki,” Thor says, a crease of worry appearing on his forehead, “you must not make trouble with the jotunns again. Ymir especially.”

“Why not? They seem to enjoy it. I can’t see why you don’t just wipe them all out, if they’re really all that bad.”

“Because they are needed,” Thor says firmly. “As you know.”

Gabriel frowns. He’s forgotten they think he’s been to see the Norns, and gotten the whole Norse-brain-dump that they all seem to have. “Uh, I think blowing my entire reserve of power in one go might have fried a few of my circuits. What exactly are you talking about?”

Thor and Sif exchange a glance, before she glances around apprehensively and leans in. Her eyes are dark and troubled as she says one word: “Ragnarök.”

The theatrics are lost on Gabriel, as the word means nothing to him. But he nods as closes his eyes like he understands. “Of course. My head isn’t in the right place. Just give me a chance to get some rest and I’ll be on top of things again.”

Thor steps back from his bed, Sif following suite. "Rest," he repeats with a tired smile. "When you are well, we will tell all of Asgard of our daring escape." Gabriel nods placidly as they leave the room and stares back up at the ceiling. He's never needed sleep, or even seen the appeal. It's such a pointlessly decadent thing to do, turning yourself off for a few hours while the rest of the world marches on. Instead he's left alone with his thoughts as his body slowly heals.

He's realized by now that returning to heaven was a stupid idea. The one thing he could be sure of was that nothing would have changed, and it would only be a matter of time before his brother's fighting drove him away again. And he'd actually come close to enjoying himself during the first half of their exploits, another thing he never made a habit of. Sif and Thor weren't so bad, for pagans. Maybe he didn’t have to be so terribly lonely.

Back when he was with heaven, he could have killed every giant in a single burst and ripped the mountain up by its roots. Now he could scarcely flutter around the rafters without being confined to his bed for a day. He still had power, that was undeniable, but what he had was greatly diminished and on top of that refused to cooperate. Old magic that would have felt effortless before suddenly became as if he was doing it for the first time--unwieldy and unnatural. He was molten steel without a mold, with no heaven to guide his power. He sighed quietly. Thinking on his past would do him no good now. He had to move on, look to the future and find new ways of coping with his situation. If his old ways of magic didn't work, he would find new ones.

 

 

 

The first thing Gabriel does after he wakes up is go find a temple. Anything scary enough to make Thor lower his voice and Sif look nervous is worth investigating, and this “Ragnarök” has an especially bad ring to it. He still has no intention of going to the Norns; he’s not a part of all of this, and he doesn’t want to be. That doesn’t mean he can’t do a little investigating, though. Asking the other gods is out of the question, since there’s no reason he shouldn’t know already. So he heads for the mortal plane.

Invisible and intangible, he hangs around the various halls of worship where the northerners go to pray to their gods. They don’t seem to keep any books that Gabriel can see, so the best he can do is make himself comfortable and wait for some juicy tidbit to come up in conversation. It’s incredibly boring, although he entertains himself by manifesting hallucinations in a few of the people when it gets truly dull. He moves around, picking up myth after myth until he has a better picture of what exactly the hubbub is about.

From what he gleans, Ragnarök seems to be the Norse apocalypse. Big whoop. Gabriel may be gaining some modicum of respect for these pagans, but even their end of days has got to be markedly inferior than his own. Although he has to admit, they do have style. Apparently Odin is going to be consumed by a giant wolf, and Thor will be poisoned by a snake so big it can circle the world. Jotunnheim and Muspell will rise together against Asgard, and then some giant cosmic being of fire and darkness will sweep down from the furthest corner of the universe and decimate what’s left. That last creature’s name is hardly mentioned but once, in equal parts fear and reverence: Surtr. Gabriel wishes he could inspire that brand of reaction in his own worshippers, but at the same time he’s grateful that he hasn’t.

Everything about this new pantheon is strange and unfamiliar, yet he figures he'll have to start learning fast. Next time Thor and Sif might not be around to get him out of trouble; and if there's one thing he knows, it's that there's going to be a next time.

 

* * *

_“Do you remember, Odin, when in bygone days_

_we mixed our blood together?_

_You said you would never drink ale_

_unless it were brought to both of us_ _.”_

 

Gabriel is called to Odin's throne room before dawn has even had a chance to break. Normally a summons would mean that he's done something wrong, but this time he can't think of anything that Odin would have reason to know about yet. That alone is cause for concern, but he dutifully troops to Valhalla all the same.

This is one of the few times where the throne room remains largely empty; there's no crowd of onlookers hoping that Odin's in a smiting mood, just empty benches and stillness. From outside Gabriel can hear the clash of weapons and hearty laughter drifting from the combat yards, where Odin's band of heroes scraped off the battlefield after their valiant deaths go to train every day. He thinks that hacking at people with a sword for the rest of eternity sounds like approximately the most boring thing he could ever think of, but he's not about to tell Odin that.

The Allfather's throne is empty; instead, Odin sits on one of the lowered benches, feeding a piece of bread to one of his pet birds. It stares at him with a beady black eye, which Gabriel ignores. Those things always made him feel uncomfortable.

"Loki," Odin greets him.

Gabriel inclines his head. "Odin. For what am I in trouble for this time?"

"You'll be happy to hear that this visit may be the single exception to your other trips to Valhalla. This time I want to ask a favor of you."

"A favor," Gabriel repeats warily. "What is it you want?"

"The great meeting of Gods soon approaches," Odin says. "Normally it would be customary for I myself to attend, but due to the recent hostilities between frost and fire giants at our borders, I find myself unable to go." Gabriel is 90% sure that the so-called hostilities are bullshit, but he stays quiet. "As a result, I need to find some vassal to go in my stead." His single eye falls on Gabriel pointedly. "You would be a suitable candidate, I believe."

Gabriel laughs. Hard. "I'm sorry Odin, but that is the stupidest idea I've ever heard. I can hardly get along with you lot in Asgard without setting off some kind of civil war. I'd have every Pantheon turned against us before the first hour had passed."

"You can be quite difficult, this is true. You also seem more apt at insulting people than any I have met. Yet by some unfortunate circumstance you also possess one of the sharpest wits in Asgard, and a silver tongue to match."

"I have a hard time believing that you would trust me to do this alone," Gabriel says. "Who is it that you have babysitting me?"

"I was going to leave that decision up to you," Odin says irritably. "I assume that your answer will be Thor?"

"That would seem best," Gabriel replies. Suddenly a thought hits him. "Wait, no. I changed my mind. I'll take Skadi."

Odin looks surprised. "Skadi? Really?"

"Yep."

"Are you certain?"

"Positive."

"I had thought that you two had recently quarreled."

"Oh, we most certainly have." Gabriel grins. He could imagine no punishment any worse for her than being forced to sit through days and days of long-winded speeches by other gods even more self-important than herself. Odin looks like he is going to protest, but he lets the issue drop.

"Very well. Skadi it is. You will leave with her a week from today. And Loki," he says just as he turns way. "Don't mess this up."

Gabriel grins. "I wouldn't dream of it."

 

 

 

The next week seems to fly by, and Gabriel finds he's actually looking forward to this. Sure, the part where he has to sit around listening to various delegations will be a chore, but he'll get to watch Skadi slowly becoming more and more furious until she finally snaps. If she ends up ruining the whole thing for them Gabriel thinks he would be able to officially retire as a trickster and consider his life complete.

Skadi has yet to do much more than say a few curt words and glare at him coldly whenever they're in the same room. When they meet up in front of the Bifrost her red hair is pulled back into a braid, her snowshoes swapped out for some practical boots. Her outfit still has way too much fur for Gabriel's taste, though. He himself has rustled up a loose green shirt and some tan trousers, with a leather vest to go over it all.

"You're dressed warmly," he comments as Skadi strides right past him and heads for the Bifrost. "Have you forgotten that Greece is in a temperate zone?"

"Have you forgotten that Olympus is on top of a mountain?" Skadi shoots back. Gabriel just grins. Off to a good start.

The Bifrost deposits them at the base of the mountain, a sheen of magic spreading out from its peak like a slick of oil signifying that they're in the right place. It's been a long time since Gabriel's been here; not since he first came crawling up the mountainside with his wings hemorrhaging energy to beg a place among them. His mouth tightens. Things will go differently this time.

"How shall we..." he trails off as he sees that Skadi is gone. In her place is a massive grey wolf standing atop a rocky outcrop above him, her large eyes inspecting him coolly. She leaps over his head and lands with a soft thud before taking off into the undergrowth in the direction of the mountain, impossibly fast. Gabriel smiles. If it's a race she wants, she'll have to be ready to lose.

Closing his eyes, he wraps his grace around himself and twists his form into the shape he wants. A second later he bursts from the treetops in the shape of a hawk, the wind ruffling his feathers and tossing him into the sky. It's not the same as flying on his true wings, but it's not bad either. He screeches a cry and wheels up the side of the mountain. Skadi is a grey flash through the trees below, climbing steadily higher. Gabriel chuckled internally. No wolf could beat a pair of wings.

Suddenly something snatches him out of the air, a couple of strong hands pinning his wings to his side and a high laugh ringing in his ears. Gabriel finds himself face-to-face with Hermes, his impish face split by a wide grin.

"Well, well, well, little bird!" he exclaims. "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you. It's Loki now, right?"

"So they keep telling me," Gabriel says, tweaking reality just in the slightest to allow himself to speak in his current form. He has a feeling that if he changed back now Hermes wouldn't hesitate to let him plummet, if only to get a laugh out of the situation. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Skadi burst from the tree line and start slipping up the craggy mountainside. "If you don't mind, Hermes, I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"You northerners, always in a rush," Hermes grumbles. "Do you think you're too good for us? It seems like only yesterday you were nothing more than a shivering wreck on our doorstep, begging for just a sip of power." He pulls Gabriel close and sneered into his face. "Are you going to beg me to let you go, little bird?"

Gabriel pecks him on the nose. Hermes recoils with a howl, clutching as his face while Gabriel silently enjoys the show. "Filthy creature!" Hermes spits And with that, Hermes winds up his arm and sends Gabriel flying in the opposite direction of Olympus, clicking his winged heels and blowing a raspberry in his wake.

Gabriel manages to right himself before he hits the ground, but by the time he flies all the way back to the top of the mountain Skadi is waiting for him, her tongue hanging out of her canine mouth in a lazy grin. She reverts to her human form as soon as she sees him, a smug smile on her face.

"I dare say you're losing your touch, Trickster," Skadi says with a toss of her hair. Gabriel slinks by her with a sullen glare and says nothing more about it. Hermes's little reminder of his past time on Olympus has put him in a bad mood.

They walk across the landing of white marble, the massive gates of Olypmus rising up ahead of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel sees a few other gods that he doesn't recognize drifting in the same direction. The gates themselves are made out of twisted shafts of sunlight, curving into more patterns than Gabriel cares to count. On the other side there seems to be nothing but clouds. It's quite impressive, but Gabriel prefers the rainbow bridge.

As they step forward the bars leap apart to let them pass, and the hum of energy is close on Gabriel's skin as he steps through. Instantly he finds himself standing at the foot of what looks like a sloping hill of white marble, a long set of stairs leading up to a small town that sprawls elegantly near the top. The columns gleam brightly in the sunlight, delicate trees seeming to spring straight from the marble itself. They duck under a low-hanging peach tree as they continue up the path, and when Gabriel snatches a fruit off the branch and bites into it, it taste like water vapor. He throws it away and it bursts into a mist.

He sees a few familiar faces as he makes his way to the top: there's cat-headed Bast reclining on a bench with Apollo. The throng goes thicker as they make their way in the direction of the central chamber, where the meeting is supposed to be held. Ivy with golden leaves creeps up the sides of the marble buildings. It's all very pretentious. Gabriel actually finds himself feeling nostalgic for the sturdy wood and iron of Asgard's decor.

"The meeting won't start for another hour or so," Skadi tells him. "If you think you can avoid bringing the mountain down on our head for that long, I have some business to attend to."

"Yes, yes. Give Artemis my love," Gabriel says vaguely. He briefly savors the flush that creeps up Skadi's face before she disappears into the crowd with a huff. Gabriel is left alone in the crowd, his gaze idly flicking over the strange variety of shapes around him. He doesn't recognize most of them--there are gods with animal bodies, or only parts of them. Gabriel sees all types of armor and cloth, and plenty of people free-birding it as well. Sprites tumble around his ankles and at some point he looks up to see what appears to be a cyclops towering over him. No one seems particularly interested in him, which is of course their loss. It's probably for the best. Gabriel doesn't like being reminded that other people are more powerful than him.

"So the boy who likes to play with fire is back for another taste. Whatever happened to once burned, twice shy?" Speaking of which. Gabriel turns around slowly, his eyebrows raising as he sees a slim dark woman standing a few feet away. Some of the other gods seem to cringe away from her as she walks towards him, the drapes of her sari swinging behind her. She wears her power on her sleeve this time, a nexus of energy that whirls around her body and seems to engulf anyone around her.

"Kali." Gabriel eyes her warily. "Long time." So long, in fact, that the last time he met her he was still packing angel power and wearing a different body. This could get problematic.

"You've changed." It's not a question. Her eyes flick over his form, drinking in the patterns of energy that dance around his form. Back when he was an angel it must have looked like a bright and steady glow, but now his power eddies and ripples like smoke.

"Yeah, I thought I'd try something new," Gabriel says, gesturing at his new vessel and going for a grin of bravado. "You like?"

Her face remains impassive. "You've joined with the Norse."

"You know how it is. Gotta find work somewhere."

"More likely they're the only ones that would take you in." Gabriel doesn't wince, but he is rather annoyed that she can see through him that quickly.

"And what about you?" he says, changing the subject. "The years have certainly been kind to you."

As if in response, Kali's energy seems to flex and shift around her. She smiles. "Flattery will win you no favors."

"Well you've put on a lot of metaphysical weight, if it makes you feel better."

"And I see your manners have only decreased with your stature."

"Hey now, let's leave the vessels out of this," Gabriel says. “I’m compact.”

“Tiny.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m actually just below the average human height,” Gabriel snaps. “We can’t all be towering pillars of muscle, now can we?”

“Actually, we can. One of the side-benefits of being gods, you see.”

“Yeah, well maybe I like standing out.” Gabriel pauses, suddenly feeling uneasy with the realization that they seem to be having banter. He’s not sure how he should feel about that yet. But it feels kind of good.

Kali looks up during the break in their conversation, her eyes travelling across the crowd. “The meeting will begin soon,” she says, an edge of contempt creeping into her voice. Gabriel studies her coyly.

“Not very fond of the council meetings either?”

“It’s beneath me. Listening to those idiots natter over territory disputes is enough to make me want to carve the top off this wretched mountain,” she says with a sigh. “But unfortunately, my lack of presence would be noted.”

“Then let them note it.” He meets her eyes. “I’m sure there’s some dry brush around here that would make a pretty decent blaze, and they’ll undoubtedly still be at it by the time we get back.”

Kali’s eyes widen in surprise at first before a wicked smile spreads across her face. “A tempting prospect.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I’ve never been one to resist temptation.”

“My kind of god.”

 

 

 

When Kali and Gabriel slip back through the gates of Olympus, the sky has fermented into a deep purple scattered with the distant glint of stars. It’s very pretty, and Gabriel hardly notices it.

“That was more fun than I’ve had in a while,” he says, his ribs sore from laughing. Kali trails at his side, a small smile on her lips, her shoulders loose and relaxed.

“I did enjoy the way that adulterer reacted when you made his genitals disappear,” Kali admits.

“We should probably sit in on the meeting for at least a few minutes,” Gabriel says regretfully. “The future of my status as a god is sort of hinging on me not screwing this up.”

“Perhaps you best avoid it entirely, then,” Kali says.

Gabriel looks at her in mock surprise. “I do believe you just made a joke.”

“I’m not some oblivious simpleton. I am easily capable of humor.”

“I believe you,” Gabriel says with a laugh as they make their way through the arches and pillars of Olympus. The sound of a loud and spirited argument drifts through the buildings towards them, growing louder and louder the closer they get. Gabriel is a fan of any brand of mayhem that doesn’t directly involve him, but even this sounds like more trouble than it’s worth. He sighs. Time to make Odin proud, or at least marginally satisfied enough not to kick him out of Asgard.

“You can’t just take a pyramid!” an exasperated voice rises above the din. “People are bound to notice!”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before your followers threw off the balance by massacring us,” another says.

As they reach the meeting proper, the floor dips down into a massive courtyard at the bottom of a small flight of stairs, open to a starry sky. The yard itself is lit as if by the rosy light of the sunset, although the sun itself is nowhere to be seen. A massive table from a slab of oak that must have been as tall as the mountain itself sits in the center, and seated around it are the most important of the gods. There’s Zeus of course, Ra and Brahman and a lot that Gabriel doesn’t recognize. A few chairs are empty as well, though the crowd of lesser gods milling around doesn’t seem eager to take them.

Kali and Gabriel take up a station at the back, exchanging a look of amusement as the proceedings continue. Luckily they seemed to have skipped all the boring parts where the different gods try to be civil to each other, and have jumped in right when tempers start really flying. Gabriel leans back on his heels and grins. Nothing like a little mayhem to cap off a day full of more mayhem.

The prickle in the center of Gabriel’s grace is the first warning, an itch that he can’t seem to locate. His sense of well being disappears immediately, and on a hunch he tightens the shielding spell around his grace. Not a moment too soon, either. The flash of white light in the center of the table has no other herald, the crest of blinding wings arching over the gathering like the jaws of a trap about to close.

The glare dies down to reveal a young woman standing in its place, her feet planted on the wood of the table and her brown eyes surveying the gathering with an eyebrow cocked. Her true form still wavers around her body like a mirage, the unmistakable glow of an angel. Gabriel recognizes her instantly, and ducks out of sight just in time to avoid her, tugging his grace together as tightly as he can and shrinking behind Ganesh’s girth. It made sense that heaven would send Anna to a meeting like this. She was already so tainted with the mortal plane, a little fraternization with the pagans could hardly do any more damage. What’s surprising is the fact that they sent someone at all.

“I see heaven cares little for the courtesy of timeliness,” Sekhmet says coolly.

“Heaven cares little for any of this,” Anna shoots back, stepping over to her open chair and gracefully sinking into her seat. The gods’ reactions vary from dirty looks to appreciative smiles, though the first category greatly outnumber the second.

Gabriel stays hidden behind the elephant god, practically holding his breath. If Anna sees him, no good would come out of it. She’d either expose him and blow his cover, or even try to bring him back to heaven herself. And Gabriel really doesn’t want to have to kill her. She’d always shown such promise, despite the higher-ups constantly trying to beat her down.

The lack of smiting after a minute or so is encouraging. “Looks like someone’s on heaven’s bad side,” Ganesh rumbles, shooting him a furtive glance.

“Something like that,” Gabriel says darkly. “Thanks for covering me.”

“Any enemy of heaven is a friend of mine,” Ganesh says. “Those self-important featherheads could use a few more of the former.” Gabriel can only grin nervously.

He can’t slip away; he’d draw too much attention to himself. His best bet is to just wait it out until Anna leaves in a similar light show. He’s just resolved on this decision when he realizes that Anna’s eyes are locked on his.

“Who are you?” Her eyes seem to dig straight into him, rooting out the truth. His jaw might as well be wired shut, and he wouldn’t trust himself to speak anyways. “You remind me of someone. Someone I’ve been looking for.” At any moment she’s bound to realize the truth and then it would all be over. He would be forced to kill one of his own kind, undoubtedly blowing his cover in the process and putting him on the run again. Only this time every Pantheon imaginable would know who and what he was. There would be no refuge anymore.

Anna’s eyes narrow and she stands up. “I asked you a question, pagan. Who are you?”

Gabriel can scarcely believe that it’s taken this long. He glances behind him and then looks at her again. He opens his mouth, then closes it.

Her eyes darken and she takes a step towards him. “I could crush you with scarcely more than a thought, insect. Answer my question!” As she advances the crowd seems to part like the Red Sea, giving Gabriel a perfect view of the angel blade materializing in Anna’s hand. He’s too baffled by the idea that she’s going to kill him as a pagan before realizing he’s an angel to even react.

“Forgive our brother, seraph,” a smooth voice cuts in, and a series of shadows seem to detach from their owners in the crowd and slide up to Gabriel’s side. Suddenly he’s surrounded by glinting yellow eyes that wink at him suggestively, black feathers and sharp teeth. The smell of candle wax and cedar seems to hang around them in the air.

“And who are you, then?” Anna demands, her sword still a silvery threat in her hand.

“We are the Tricksters,” says a young boy with dark skin and eight purple eyes. “This creature is one of us, by the name of Loki. He hails from the Norse pantheon in Asgard.”

Anna looks unimpressed. “And why is this Loki unable to answer for himself?”

The Trickster laughs. “He is struck dumb by your presence, of course! It is not every day that lesser sprites such as us get to witness such raw power.”

That nearly stings Gabriel’s pride enough to spur him into speaking up, but he bites his tongue and forces his gaze onto his boots. He can still feel Anna’s grace probing and prying at him, but he’s not aware of the faint web of spellwork woven tight around him, gossamer as spider’s thread and practically invisible even to his sharpened senses. For anyone not affected by the spell, it would be completely undetectable.

Anna, however, looks no less suspicious. She takes a step closer and peers into Gabriel’s face, so close their grace is practically mingling. Gabriel looks into her eyes and sees the familiar cool, white glow there and feels a sudden pang of longing. To have one of his sisters right in front of him, staring into his face and not even recognizing him—well, it stings a bit. But he can’t reveal himself now, and after one long moment Anna pulls away.

“Pathetic sprite,” she mutters under her breath. Gabriel is in no position to disagree with her. “Get out of my sight.”

A second later Gabriel is being whisked out of the courtyard, a series of hands on his arms and back and shoulders guiding him away from the crowd of people and into the quiet marble halls of Olympus. He doesn’t try to resist, although the wide grins on the faces of his supposed rescuers are anything but comforting. They guide him to a little grove of trees carved out of the marble, the long fronds sweeping down to tuck them out of sight.

Gabriel finally has a chance to inspect his new friends closely; they all wear human forms, as do the rest of the gods in Olympus, but they’ve manipulated them to include echoes of their truer forms. Gabriel catches the rustle of black feathers and the clacking of pincers, flashing yellow eyes and nimble fingers. Their energy shifts fickly like fire.

“So it seems I owe you guys a thank you,” Gabriel begins. “Although first I’d like to know who you are and why you did it.”

“Such unabashed gratitude,” A girl with nut-brown skin and wicked eyes says, a smile curling her lips. “We could have saved you for your courtesy alone. As it happens, we have an eye for people who endeavor not to be found.”

“So you want some kind of reward?” Gabriel asks.

“Please. We are not so petty,” another speaks up, his teeth shockingly white behind his lips. “We sensed you attempting to cloak yourself. We also sensed the massive well of power that you most sought to hide.”

“That well has run dry, sorry to say,” Gabriel says. “If that’s what you want from me, then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“The water may be gone, but the well is dug,” the god says. “There is much potential in you.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Gabriel says. “If I’m going to have to listen to a bunch of cryptic riddles I’d at least like to know who’s telling them.”

The girl whistles softly. “This one’s got some spunk. The last one who gave us lip ended up on the inside of my stomach.”

“There’s no need for threats, Coyote,” the other god says. “We’re all friends here.” He turns back to Gabriel. “We are the Tricksters. You have heard of us, I assume?”

“Not really,” Gabriel says. “You’re some kind of minor class of pagan, right? Not many followers, if memory serves. Hardly gods at all, really.”

“Much like yourself,” the god says offhandedly. “Our strength may be limited, but strength is hardly necessary for power. And we are powerful.”

Gabriel smiles wryly. “You don’t look like much to me.”

“I’m sorry, did you miss the part where we deceived a high class of angel with a bit of lightweight spellwork?” the monkey god says. “Or should we call her back here and see how you do on your own?”

“Fine, do it,” Gabriel says. “I’m sure she’s likely to take the fact that you guys tricked her in stride. She’ll probably not smite you to ash.”

“Quiet, both of you,” the other god snaps. “Bickering will get us nowhere. Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Crow.”

“Sun Wukong,” the monkey god says sullenly.

“Coyote here,” says the girl with a little salute.

“And I’m Anansi,” says the spider, winking with four of his eyes.

They all look to Gabriel expectantly. He sighs and grinds his teeth. “Loki,” he says. “But I’m assuming you knew that already.”

“Of course,” Crow says. “But it’s important for you to say it. Now then, Loki, do you know why we’ve brought you here?”

“It wouldn’t be to talk at me some more, by any chance? Because I just love that.”

Coyote and Anasi snickered to themselves. “You’re lucky Crow has to deal with us this whole time,” Anansi says. “That sort of insolence is liable to get your eyes pecked out.”

“That was only the one time,” Crow says. “Loki, we neither need nor want anything from you. However, we may have something to offer you.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrow. “Why would you offer me something for free?”

Crow laughs. “Free? Of course not. We deal in bargains, not in charity. But fear not, we are nothing if not fair.”

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested,” Gabriel says immediately.

“We see your potential,” Crow continues, ignoring him. “You have power, and more importantly you have imagination. Both of those are necessary for a Trickster.”

“And who said I wanted to become a trickster?”

Anansi smiles. “You did, just now.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, but he can’t repress his curiosity. “Fine, then. I’ll play. Why would I want to be a Trickster?”

“Because you hate rules,” Crow says. “The only rule we follow is that of justice. Those who do wrong, we punish. Other than that, you are free.”

“And what do you want in exchange for letting me join your special club?” Gabriel asks.

“A favor. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Gabriel smiles grimly. “You are aware that there is no higher price than the one you just named. Favors are always more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Of course. Yet people pay in them all the same,” the monkey said with a toothy smile.

“You can’t possibly expect me to simply agree to this now.”

Crow bobbed his head. “Of course not. I imagine you won’t be considering it for a long time. But when you do, we will be here.”

Gabriel’s eyes moved between them. "So I can just leave, then." 

"Yes." 

"Right now?" 

"Indeed." 

Gabriel is gone the next second, shooting off in the opposite direction without a look back. He may have been curious, but he also isn't about to hand over his figurative soul just to for nothing. He lands in the branches of a random tree a hundred miles away, confident that he had seen the last of that strange bunch of gods. 

"Oh, one more thing," Crow said, popping up out of nowhere a few feet away and nearly making Gabriel fall out of his tree. "When the time comes and you need us again, you only need to look." And with that, Gabriel was alone again.

 

 

 

“You know, that was actually not nearly as bad as I expected,” Skadi says as they make their way back from the Bifrost. Gabriel had found her shortly after his encounter with the Tricksters, clutching an arrowhead to her chest and smiling dreamily.

“Mmm,” Gabriel says noncommittally. Normally Skadi expressing any form of happiness would be reason enough for him to leap into action, but his mind is awash in strange pagan nonsense that shouldn’t have any bearing on him. He remembers Kali and all the dangerous fun they had, and the wide hungry grins of the Tricksters. He has to admit, their lifestyle had a certain appeal. Pranking was fun enough, and Gabriel didn’t really foresee it getting any less-so, but doling out punishment? Justice, even? It’s an interesting idea.

“Really,” Skadi repeats herself. “I’m actually glad I went.”

“Isn’t Artemis supposed to be a virgin goddess?” Gabriel snipes. That gets Skadi to stop sighing for the rest of the trip back to Asgard.

 

He doesn’t hear from Odin for the first few hours that he’s back in Asgard, which is enough for Gabriel to know that he hasn’t screwed anything up too badly. When he does get the summons, he arrives to see Odin glaring down at him with the sort of frown that makes him doubt that assessment. A loose assortment of gods mills around the room, including Baldur, who looks petulant that Gabriel was chosen to go instead of him. By the time Gabriel has finished retelling the events of the meeting that don’t compromise his identity, Odin’s glare has only deepened.

“Allow me to repeat what I have just heard, so I can be certain I did not somehow misunderstand,” Odin growls. “You ran off with a goddess and arrived late to the meeting, did not so much as speak on our behalf once, and then tempted the wrath of Heaven? What did you manage to accomplish?”

Gabriel’s mouth twists ruefully. “I replaced all of Zeus’s thunderbolts with carrots.”

Odin is quiet for a long time before a slow, loud laugh builds up in his chest. It echoes through Valhalla until the other gods are forced to join in.

“That’s good,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “That’s quite good. We’ll see how that jumped-up bastard likes that, won’t we!” Odin leans forward. “You may not have done what you were supposed to, Loki, but you’ve done well nonetheless. For this reason, I am taking you off probation and offering you the chance to be a god in full. A minor god, of course, but a god all the same.”

“Seriously?” Gabriel asks. “I mean, yeah. That sounds awesome.”

“What do you want to be made a god of?” Odin asks. “You can’t have anything that’s already been taken. Or turtles. I think we all remember what happened last time we had a god of turtles.” There’s a pointed murmuring through the crowd that ensures Gabriel is going to wring this story out of Thor later. But for now, he just nods shortly.

“I would like to be a god of Fire,” Loki says.

Odin stares at him. “That’s all?”

Gabriel nods. “Yep. Just fire. No bells, no whistles.”

Odin sits back and scratches his beard. “I must admit, I expected something much more gaudy. But so be it. I hereby christen you Loki, god of Fire.”

He raises his spear and points it directly at Gabriel’s chest, who flinches despite himself. Nothing happens.

“It will take a while for your connection to the power of Asgard to manifest,” Odin explains, settling back into his chair. After a beat, the rest of the gods clap politely. Thor and Sif cheer obnoxiously. It’s all very anticlimactic, yet at the same time Gabriel feels almost happy. He’s now officially a member of their team, in name if not in spirit. That should count for something.

Luckily no one except Thor and Sif like him enough to throw a feast, so after he slips out of Valhalla he finds a nice clearing and settles onto the grass to wait. Eventually he begins to feel it, the familiar energy creeping through him as his ties to this Pantheon solidify. For once his senses line up and it feels like it’s actually supposed to—cool, damp, and soft. He plucks one and rubs it between his fingers with a smile before reaching for his new reservoir of power. The stem writhes in his hand and becomes a tiny green snake.

“So. Fire, is it?” Gabriel whirls around, on his feet in an instant with his angel sword in his hand. In the darkness of a pine he sees the faint glimmer of red hair, pale skin, and knowing eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve hidden us from your gatekeeper’s senses. We’re very much alone.”

“Anna,” he says, his shock briefly overtaking him before he remembers himself. Or more accurately, who he’s not. The sword in his hand slides back out of existence as quickly as he manifested it. “You’re the angel from the council. Why did you follow me?”

“Oh, I think you know,” Anna says, pushing off from the trees and stepping towards him. “Although I’m very curious to hear what excuse you have for whipping out an angel-blade five seconds ago.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gabriel says. “This is just a normal sword. Extra shiny, yeah, but absolutely no angel-killing properties whatsoever.”

“Please, don’t insult my intelligence. I knew there was something off about you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and now I have no doubts. So would you care to explain yourself, Gabriel?”

For a second he stands there motionless, as still as if Anna has turned him to stone. Which, to be fair, she could do that. Or at least, she could try. When he looks up to meet her gaze, he doesn’t flinch. He lets his grace unfurl around him, his wings stretching up over the treetops to trail through the open air. Anna inspects them dispassionately.

“How did you find me?” he asks.

“My station is to watch the Earth. When your absence was discovered, I was assigned to keep an eye out for you. I thought you would have taken on a disguise of some kind, and when I saw you at the council I had my suspicions. After following you back here, I knew for sure.”

The silence drags out between them. At any minute Gabriel expects Anna to make her move, lunge forward and try to subdue him, and then he’ll be forced to kill her. He won’t go back. No matter what it takes. “So? Aren’t you going to try and bundle me back into the great blue yonder? I’m sure Michael and Lucy can stop their squabbling for long enough to slap me upside the head.”

“Lucifer is gone,” Anna says. “He’s in Hell.”

Gabriel freezes. Then he laughs. “You know, sis, you should really leave the humor to me. Or at least work on your delivery.”

“Father finally had enough,” Anna says. “He cast Lucifer down into the Pit, and there he’ll stay.”

“Oh, that is so very Dad,” Gabriel snarls, his grace seething with a sudden bout of rage. “Why work through your problems when you can just smite them and forget they ever happened?”

“You shouldn’t speak of Him that way,” Anna says. Gabriel can practically taste the capital ‘h”.

“Or what? He’ll throw me into the flames as well? Fine then!” He throws his arms out, tilts back his head to glare at the sky. “Go on! Strike me down, O Almighty One! Apparently I’m the new rebellious son, so why don’t you just knock out the full set!” The sky is silent, and Gabriel remains standing. After a while he lowers his arms. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what to expect. But now he knows—dad’s not doing anything anymore. He smiles bitterly, staring at Anna again. “Looks like Dad doesn’t care anymore. And good thing, too. Otherwise I’d be about to get in a lot of trouble.” He turns and walks away.

“Where are you going?” Anna says sharply, hurrying on his heels.

“To rescue my brother,” Gabriel says with a shrug. “I figure at least one member of this dysfunctional family should look out for everyone else. I’m not going to let Lucifer roast in Hell just for being disobedient—not when I’m free to flounce around Earth after committing the exact same crime.”

“Lucifer defied God,” Anna says. “He spat in our Father’s face and corrupted an innocent woman into a monster. You may have fled Heaven, but you never disobeyed.”

“Well then it’s high time I changed that,” Gabriel says with forced cheerfulness, leaping over a fallen tree.

“You can’t!” Anna cries.

“I will.”

“Nothing gets through the Cage, be it in or out.”

“Every cell has a door. And doors are made to be opened.”

“Not this time. There’s only one way Lucifer is getting out of that prison.”

Gabriel stops, turns to face her. “And how is that, then?”

Anna sighs and drags harried fingers through her hair—a distinctly human gesture. Gabriel smiles to himself. Someone’s been letting themselves go.

“God released a new prophecy. There will come a time when brother must fight against brother once more, only this time there can be only one winner. One must kill the other.”

Gabriel stare at her. “I’d say you’re lying, but that’s not really your speed, is it?” He rubs his eyes and fights down the pit of fury gnawing at his insides. “Why would he do this, Anna? Why does he want to watch his sons kill each other?”

“I don’t know,” Anna says after a moment. He can hear the uncertainty in her voice. “I don’t… understand it. But we have to obey,” she says, drawing herself up. “It’s our purpose.”

“Your purpose,” Gabriel corrects her. “I quit that game, remember?”

“You’re still an archangel,” Anna says. “You may have fallen in with these pagans, but you can’t deny your true family any more than you can deny the true form lurking under that mask, as scarred and twisted as it might be.”

“My true family?” Gabriel snaps. “My true family turned my home into a battlefield, and would rather kill each other than settle their differences. These “pagans” have taken me in, shown me kindness, accepted me. They’ve been a better family to me than Heaven ever was.”

He can see his words sting, and he means them to. Anna’s eyes harden. “You can’t run from the destiny God has assigned you. You aren’t one of them, and their rules don’t apply to you. You’ll realize it’s true one day.” Anna turns and being walking away.

Gabriel stares after here, slightly disbelieving. “Aren’t you going to drag me back to Heaven?” he calls after her.

She pauses. “No. You’ll return when you’re ready, I think.”

“But you will tell them where I am?”

Anna shakes her head. “They told me to look for you. They did not specify what I had to do when they found me.”

Gabriel smiles wryly as she starts to walk away. “You might want to work on hiding that rebellious streak a bit better,” he says. “Keep the doubt out of your voice, but not out of your head. If Heaven catches you questioning orders they’ll call you back to the castle for a bit of reprogramming. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

“I don’t have doubts,” Anna says.

“There, that was better.”

Anna looks as if she’s about to say something, then frowns. A second later she disappears, leaving Gabriel alone in the dark.

 

* * *

 

Life goes on. No angels come looking for him, and his identity stays safe. The good thing about being a god of Fire is that there’s really not any work for him to be doing; no crops to watch over, no prayers to answer. He spends most of his time roaming the realms and performing minor tricks when he’s bored. Whenever he’s not doing that, chances are he’s with Kali.

Ever since the meeting of gods they’ve been spending more and more time together. The physical nature of their relationship just seems to happen one day. Gabriel had been passively observing sex since the dawn of human history, but he had to admit that being an active participant really changed the equation. It didn’t really seem to change things between him and Kali, though. They wreaked havoc, they had sex, they sometimes tried to kill each other. Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest of relationships, but it kept Gabriel guessing.

They’re lying in the grass and having those idle conversations that people do when Gabriel lets slip that he never got his fate woven into the super-special tapestry that the Norse are always going on about. To his surprise, Kali looks at him curiously. “You’ve never gone to see the Norns.”

Gabriel shrugs. “Nope. Never bothered.”

“Strange. You seem like the sort who would want to have his fate mapped out for him from the start.”

“Maybe I did. Maybe I got tired of it.” Gabriel clams up, aware that he’s projecting some major signals and that Kali is almost certainly filing this information for future nefarious purposes, but his stomach is twisting nauseatingly at his memories of heaven and the iron-clad scriptures that guided them there. They didn’t even matter. He had gotten out, escaped from it all, and now the only person that can tell him what to do is himself. And Odin, technically, but that’s beside the point.

“You aren’t even curious?”

“Can we drop this?” Gabriel says. “The Norns are boring. Let’s talk about you.”

“You would find me boring if we weren’t having sex.”

Gabriel looks at her. “That’s not true.”

His brief moment of sincerity seems to be lost on Kali, who sprawls back on the grass. “I would want to know, I think,” she says. “If only so I could prove them wrong. There’s nothing in this world that could tell me what to do.”

“It’s not about telling you what to do,” Gabriel sighs. “It’s telling you what you are going to do. Like, no matter what choices you make, they will inevitably lead you to one specific course of action.”

“You certainly know a lot about fate for not knowing your own.”

“It runs in my family,” Gabriel mutters too quietly for her to hear. To be honest, he’s not afraid of what the Norns will tell him—he’s afraid of what they won’t. There’s a sick feeling in his stomach that Anna is right, that he’ll never really be one of them just based on who he is. Could he really stay here after finding out he’ll never belong? It’s easier to live in ignorance.

 

 

Norse Cosmology is complicated. Every pantheon divides the world up in different ways, and all their different methods tend to interweave and overlap like tunnels of ants through the dirt. For Gabriel’s old club, it was pretty simple: you have earth, heaven, and hell. Maybe they aren’t so traditionally aligned like most humans would believe, with heaven in the sky and hell somewhere underground, but there’s only so much you can do with three separate planes.

The Norse have nine. Gabriel used to say that they were compensating for something. Worse than that, though, is the great bloody tree growing through everything.

Sometimes Gabriel thinks it’s not a real tree, that it’s some kind of metaphor for the growing force of life that permeates everything. He was pretty proud of that theory until he was exploring Asgard one day and found the arch of a single massive root curving out of the ground, breaching like a whale before tunneling back down again. After that Gabriel stops trying to imagine it all that hard.

Except that now he has to. Because ever since that conversation with Kali lying in the glen casually asking why he hasn’t gone to investigate whether his fate’s been penned into the book or not, he can’t stop thinking about it. It had been days, and before long nothing he did could seem to distract him. He ends up just pacing around his glade, grinding his teeth and melting any offensive rocks. Thor and Sif stay away, having learned by now to recognize when Gabriel’s in a bad mood and, more importantly, to let it run its course. But this time he can’t just huff and puff it out of his system. Part of him, a small but increasingly significant part, needs to know. And so finally, after smiting a tree with a bolt of lightning and snuffing out the flames immediately, he goes looking for the Norns.

Finding them would be so much easier if he could ask someone for directions, but this isn’t the kind of thing he wants to advertise. They might laugh at him, or even worse they might ask to come along. He can just imagine Baldur’s smug face as the Norns tell him he’s not really destined to do anything in particular, or Thor’s benign encouragement. Whatever they have to tell him, Gabriel doesn’t plan on having an audience.

He starts by looking for the root, but he can’t seem to find it despite being in the exact place where he saw it before. Well, if a tree that’s thousands of feet tall isn’t beyond the stretch of the imagination Gabriel suppose that a moving thousand-foot tree isn’t that much worse. He takes to the wing, wearing his hawk shape and soaring over Asgard in search of likely-looking vegetation. No luck. He stays as low to the ground as he can without scraping into the tops of trees, sharp eyes scanning the ground for a trace of the tree’s presence. He’s at it for what must be hours, a tiny slice of time when you took his lifespan into consideration, but a few hours of boredom and failure feels eternal even to an archangel.

Finally he gives up, although he won’t admit it to himself. He lets the air currents carry him higher, the sunlight tingling on his pinions and hoisting him up. The wind and the heat and the mist of the clouds helps calm him down a bit, and he’s carried higher than he’s ever flown before. In retrospect, he could practically laugh at himself. It was a stupid idea anyways—it’s easy to convince himself that he’d rather not know.

And then, of course, he makes the mistake of looking down.

At first there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Just your normal stretch of pine, rivers, fields and lakes, with the occasional mead hall nestled in the midst of it. Gabriel looks closer, and it’s then that he sees the way the ground slopes in certain places like water over the back of a crocodile, pressing up over a swath of space so large that even at this height they seem to fill his frame of vision. Gabriel has some idea of what might be causing it. Helpless to resist, he starts following it.

He flies for a long time, his heart never seeming to slow. The ground far beneath him seems to rise up into foothills, gentle slopes with folded valleys between that all seem to converge towards a single point. Balding grey peaks of mountains push up out of the earth as the incline increases, like they’re rising up to meet him. Gabriel has seen these mountains before, but not like this. They rise in sharp, steep towers, all clustered around a single space, and so high that Gabriel is forced to climb even higher. The grey walls of rock keep rolling past, shrouded in thick clouds, and at any minute he expects to see a craggy hide of bark burst out of the earth beside him.

It never does. One moment he’s circling higher and higher, and the next there’s nothing beside him but open sky. He falters, nearly falls for a second, before slowly making his way back down. The mountain just stops, cut off like someone took a giant axe and lopped off the top part. There’s nothing but a wide, flat plain of short, tough grass, and in the middle the intrusion of a very unobtrusive tree. Gabriel stares at it, circling above warily. He likes the look of that tree even less than he liked the mountain. He flies down to land anyways.

As soon as he touches down he returns to his vessel’s form. He doesn’t remember doing so, but suddenly the wiry grass is tickling the bottoms of his bare human feet, and a wind is tossing his hair into his eyes.

He approaches the tree. It’s actually quite small, an oak judging by the tiny little acorns that prick at his feet. Its trunk is thick and stout, sprouting branches that bow low with leaves over his head. A squirrel scuttles up the side of the trunk and stares at Gabriel inquisitively. From the uppermost branches he catches sight of a large bird—an eagle, he thinks.

Suddenly it’s like he’s blinked, but his eyes haven’t closed and instead of darkness he’s seeing the tree, the real tree, stretched out over and around him so impossibly high, its flanks peeling free of the mountain and shooting up into the atmosphere. It’s daytime, but Gabriel can see the stars, and in that moment each one is an acorn. The colors are strange, inverted and ghastly, and everything seems to shimmer. It’s huge and it’s powerful and it’s older than even he is, and it’s quite possibly the most terrifying thing Gabriel has ever seen. The next moment he stumbles backwards and everything is normal again, except now there are three strange creatures gathered around the trunk of Yggdrasil.

“Gabriel,” one says, in the kind of voice you normally associate with being alone in the woods at night, with the wind creaking and whispering through the leaves. He feels his grace contract at the sound of his own name—it’s been so long since he’s heard it.

“You know me,” he says. The Norns bow their heads like sunflowers in the shade. “I guess that figures. So you know I’m not actually a Norse.”

“You are,” another says. “You are Norse and angel. You were taken into the fold through powerful magic. It is a part of you now.”

“Why have you come here?” another asks.

Gabriel has to laugh at that. “Aren’t you suppose to know that sort of thing.”

“We are trying to be more engaging. Many find our omniscience to be off-putting. If you would prefer, we can drop to pretense.”

“I’ve always been a fan of pretense myself,” Gabriel lies. “So what do I have to do? Bathe in some sacred waters, eat some special herbs?”

“There is no ceremony. Your willingness to listen is all that is required, along with your understanding of the consequences.”

Gabriel shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet. “Care to enlighten me?”

“Learning your fate is not a decision to be taken lightly. The knowledge will likely bring you much grief and suffering.”

“Are we talking me personally here, or the royal you?”

“No one enjoys what they learn here. Yet they all come, eventually.”

Gabriel cocks an eyebrow. “So I don’t have a choice.”

“You do have a choice,” the Norns say matter-of-factly. “You will choose to learn your destiny.”

“I have some issues with that logic.”

“We knew you would.”

“Now you’re just being clever,” Gabriel grumbles. He stares up at the branches of the tree, trying to shake the feeling that’s settled over him ever since he reached this place. It’s not the sort of thing he can put into words, but its strange and it makes him uncomfortable.

“Oh, what the hell,” he mumbles. “Let’s do this.”

And then they tell him.

 

* * *

 

_"Ale hast thou brewed, | but, Ægir, now_   
_Such feasts shalt thou make no more;_   
_O'er all that thou hast | which is here within_   
_Shall play the flickering flames,_   
_(And thy back shall be burnt with fire.)"_

Gabriel has never been accustomed to change. As an angel, he was a creature of absolutes. Character growth wasn’t exactly on the table. But whatever he is, he’s not quite an angel anymore. He’s changed into something more, something less. Something different. Something which, according to the Norns, is destined to bring about the Norse apocalypse.

Really he should have guessed it sooner. He can’t seem to do anything without screwing it up in the worst way possible. Yet somehow he hadn’t thought that his departure from heaven would actually trigger the end of days. But it seems he has once again underestimated the vein of his luck.

You will father monstrosities, godkillers, the wolf and the serpent and the gatekeeper of Hel. You will be cast out of Asgard for your transgressions, and join with the forces of darkness to bring about the end of the world. You will strike down the gatekeeper as he strikes you, and so you will meet eternity. You are the instrument of Ragnarök, and you will be consumed by it. So it is written, so it will be

Time passes. The Norn’s words ring in his head day after day after week after month after year. It’s a different feeling from the one that still worms into the back of his mind, the battle between Michael and Lucifer programmed deep within him. There’s no deep-seated verification that what the Norns say is true, other than the sinking feeling in his gut. He should have known. The words are a maelstrom. He should have known he couldn’t be good.

So he stops trying. Why should he be something he isn’t? He’s run away from one destiny and fallen right into the lap of another. With a few clever embers he burns down a village to punish an adulterer. A few months later he burns down a village because he can. He takes no pleasure out of it. This is who he is now. So he tells himself as he spends more and more time in Jotunheim, fraternizing with the giants who once tried to kill him. It’s in their nature, he doesn’t begrudge them. If there’s evil in him, he deserves their company.

Thor and Sif worry. He ignores them.

He is lost.

 

 

 

Kali’s footsteps are soft on the carpet of pine needles behind him. He’d recognize her presence anywhere, even after so long without seeing her. He can’t say he’s happy she’s finally caught up with him. To be honest, he thought that Anna would find him before Kali did. Yet his dear sister appears to have deserted him. He doesn’t blame her. At this point there’s very little left of him to save.

“I heard congratulations are in order,” Kali says after a long moment of silence, her voice low and tinged with a mocking edge. She leans against the trunk of the pine tree under which Gabriel had been sheltering—not hiding, sheltering. The creature is so massive that its lowest branches are still teen feet off the ground, and sweep away from the trunk to form a tent of needles thirty feet in diameter. Outside there’s snow and cold, and there’s plenty of cold in here as well but it’s not the sort of thing that should trouble a god. What does trouble him, however, is the cruel smile that flits across her lips.

“Go away, Kali,” he grouses, shuffling around in a circle so his back is turned to her. He’s sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, bare feet tucked under him and his palms on his knees. Kali has little difficulty in circling around to face him once more.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she says. “They are strong offspring.”

“Monsters,” Gabriel corrects her. “Half-dead, poisonous, oversized and feral. How is that anything but shameful?”

“I’ve seen them with my own eyes. They are all very powerful. More power than I would have thought the thin bloodline of a trickster could produce. The wolf-child shows special promise.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not consorts. I have no more claim over you than you over me.”

Gabriel looks at her. “What are we then, Kali?”

She pauses. “I get the feeling you aren’t asking me that in the literal sense. Either way, I couldn’t tell you.”

Gabriel snorts at that, but offers no answer. He doesn’t trust himself to speak right now.

“If you hate this so much, why do you keep going back?”

“Why should I care?” he says eventually. “I owe nothing to those fools squatting in their mead halls.”

“Most of them could crush you with a thought,” Kali reminds him. Maybe it’s not true, but knowing that she really believes that is the worst blow of all. He turns his back on her, pacing like a caged animals, the spring of grass under his step disgustingly fabricated. She watches him with dark, calculating eyes.

“Is this about the Norns?” she says suddenly. He stiffens, says nothing aloud, but it’s enough. That’s the moment he knows that he’s in too deep. He’s never had a tell, never let anyone know when he’s lying before. Yet Kali reads the set of his shoulders like his thoughts are written across them. It makes him feel raw, exposed, and bitter.

“I thought you said you didn’t believe in fate,” Kali says. “What did they tell you that changed your mind?”

“Why bother asking?” Gabriel snaps. “You’ll just go interrogate someone else until they tell you.”

“You assume that I care enough to go to the trouble.”

“But you do care.” Gabriel stands then, glaring straight into her eyes. “You’ve let yourself become attached, let yourself care just a little more than you think you probably should, and now you’re actually worried about some stupid trickster from the north. And you’re going to run around asking all my friends until they tell you what’s wrong with me, and then you’ll try to help. Look at yourself, Kali,” he spits out the words. “You’ve gone soft for me.”

As he speaks he steps closer and closer until he’s right in Kali’s space, until the heat from her is washing over him like a blast furnace. Her face hardly moves as he speaks, except for her eyes, which slowly narrow into slits. He stares straight into them, mocking, daring her to prove him wrong.

The explosion of energy sends him flying through the air and crashing into the ground, digging a furry out of the earth as he slides to a ragged stop. The space where Kali was standing is empty, but for a scorch on the ground. Gabriel smiles bitterly. She never was one to turn down a dare.

He climbs painstakingly to his feet and dusts off his clothes. Detaching from people has always been a specialty of his. It’s better this way. The pit of loneliness starts tugging at his insides again, and as he usually does when this happens, he sets off for Niflheim.

 

 

 

It’s about time for him to snap.

He can feel it in the way his grace is all hard edges and lines, the electric buzz on every inch of his being, the way he’s drawn tight like a string stretched between two posts. Soon, he’ll fray apart and take half the cosmos with him. He bristles with anticipation.

“Loki.” The voice is as commanding as it is nauseating. Gabriel pauses, his eyes narrowing as he turns to see Baldur striding towards him. A small crowd of his admirers disperses behind him, undoubtedly so that he and Gabriel can have a nice private moment. The thought makes Gabriel want to gouge his own eyes out, but instead he turns and keeps walking.

“Loki, stop!” Baldur’s hand is a firm grip on Gabriel’s shoulder, stopping him in place. He freezes until Baldur removes it.

“What do you want?” Gabriel asks, as quiet and unassuming as a snake impersonating a stick. “I hope you realize I have zero interest in talking to you.”

“Oh believe me, I am well aware,” Baldur says, a sneer marring his features. “But you’ll suffer through it this time. I will allow you to leave before too long.”

“How kind of you.”

“Enough with your sarcasm. You’ve been nothing but trouble for this Pantheon for weeks, and I can’t stand by any longer. Our followers tremble in fear of what they think is divine reckoning, when really it’s just a child throwing a temper tantrum.” With every word Baldur says Gabriel feels something inside him twist. It’s coming.

Baldur leans in closer, trying to scare some emotion onto the blank mask of Gabriel’s face. He sees the darkness opening up there and takes it as mockery. “Your days of meddling are over. I’ve spoken to Heimdall, and you won’t be leaving Asgard through the Bifrost. I’m to find you a nice cell in Valhalla and wait for you to cool your head.”

Gabriel blinks slowly. He feels nothing at all, really. Nothing but the pressure. “And what does Odin think of this little plan of yours?”

“I don’t need Odin’s permission to do what’s right for Asgard,” Baldur snaps, his fingers whipping out to snag Gabriel’s arm. “When he hears what I’ve done, he’ll thank me.”

Gabriel looks at Baldur’s fingers, white-knuckled on the arm of his tunic. He looks into Baldur’s face. And then he smiles.

The pressure breaks.

 

* * *

 

In a way, it’s probably all led to this.

Perhaps not.

Either way, it hardly matters now. Baldur is dead. Gabriel killed him. This is his punishment.

The rock beneath him is unyielding, undoubtedly magic. His bindings, too, refuse to break. Neither of those facts matter either. His entire world consists of the two points of space up above him. The serpent was a nice touch, and it was Skadi who hung it above him. She did not so much as meet his gaze. He did not see Sif or Thor there as they bound him, and then he did not see anything at all. The poison took his eyes. His eyes return. It never stops dripping.

Gabriel has been distilled to his simplest component, and that component is pain. The Norse do not suffer traitors lightly.

He has no idea how long he spends there. Time has become meaningless. He measures it in the constant stab on his face, comfortingly and horrifically reliable. For a while he isn’t even a person anymore. He’s nothing but two pieces of agony, with nothing in between.

The first he can tell that something is different is the hum of something around his grace. He feels the energy shifting across his skin like a shadow, the most pleasant sensation he can remember in this existence he’s made for himself. Then the poison drips again, and he is unmade.

Later, the sensation returns. He knows that the next drops of poison will fall soon, their schedule worn into his flesh like water on rock. So when the pain doesn’t come, it is more terrifying than anything Gabriel can remember feeling. His world has changed. He shakes with fear.

As time passes, vague lights begin appearing around him. Without the poison to destroy them, his eyes are healing. He had forgotten he had the ability to see. Yet when he finally looks up and examines the woman bent over his form, he recognizes Kali instantly.

She’s sitting at his side. her hands cupped above him between the serpent and his face. Its poison drips into them, pooling in her fingers and hissing noxiously. She must be in pain. Her face is completely blank. It’s only when Gabriel reaches out to touch her face that he remembers his bindings.

Gabriel would laugh, but it’s beyond him right now. “I thought you weren’t going to check up on me.”

Kali glances down at him, her face inscrutable. “I didn’t. I heard your mewling all the way from the banks of the Tigris.”

“Could always count on you to help me preserve my pride,” Gabriel says, managing a weak smile that fades quickly enough. He doesn’t meet her eyes.

Kali is silent. The only sound for a long time is the steady hiss of poison. “I’m not here to help you discover the kernel of goodness deep inside you, or make you the man you’ve always meant to be. You can either fight by my side, or I can incinerate you and fix this mess myself.”

Gabriel shakes his head ruefully. “You make a very convincing argument…” He pauses. “You know why they put me here, don’t you?” he asks.

“Of course. You have a lot of enemies, Loki. Word of your predicament travelled fast. You’re meant to lead the armies of Ragnarök and smash the Norse Pantheon to pieces.”

“Then what possible reason would you have for freeing me?”

“Because,” Kali says with a quiet smile, “that is a load of bullshit.”

That puts a wry smile on Gabriel’s face. “Your faith in me is touching.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re far too incompetent to lead an army, let alone one that will destroy an entire kingdom of gods.”

“Then what makes you think I’m capable of stopping one?”

“If there is one thing you have consistently excelled at, it is resolving the problems that you in some way caused. And you won’t be doing it alone.”

He glares at her. “Even if I could help you, why would I want to?” he says. “Look what those bastards did to me. They would have let me rot down here forever, and I’m just supposed to just shrug that off?”

“Yes.” Kali’s answer is simple and immediate.

Gabriel would have thrown his hands up, if they weren’t bound to the rock. “Why?”

“Because they are your family.”

He swallows, looks away. He wants to object, to say that she’s wrong, that these people are just a ruse that he’s using for his own ends. That they mean nothing to him. That he had been fighting one divine plan or another for so long that he couldn’t remember what it was like to live without the shadow of some great or terrible destiny hanging over him. He wants to say that he’s sick of being looked down on and shunted to the side, that he traded one destiny for another and got the shit end of the bargain, that he’s tired. He wants to say that she doesn’t know him, but he realizes it’s not true. And for once, he’s done lying.

“Now,” Kali says, raising her sword. “I can either use this thing on your bindings, or on your stomach. What’s it going to be?”

“Fuck it,” Gabriel says. “Let’s stop Ragnarök.”

 

 

 

They slip out of the cave a while later, once Gabriel feels strong enough to walk. They make their way to a secluded grove and Kali conceals them from Heimdall’s sight.

“What exactly is our plan here?” Gabriel says. “I mean, we can pack a punch, but there are millions of giants dead-set on laying siege to anywhere with its name on a map, and I’m really not liking those odds.”

“You of all people should know that physical strength isn’t everything. Use that brain of yours and think of something.”

Gabriel stares at her. “You mean you don’t have a plan?”

“My plan was to free you so that you could come up with a plan.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry, did you want me to begin quoting the myriad number of times you said I should ‘let you do the thinking’?”

“Oh come on, I never said that.”

Kali glares. “I have witnesses.”

“Fine, fine! It doesn’t matter! None of this changes the fact that we have two armies queuing up to tear Asgard to pieces, and all my cards have come up saying ‘evil’.”

“Tell me the prophecy again,” Kali says. “As exactly as you can.”

As if there was any way Gabriel could forget it. “‘You will father monstrosities, godkillers, the wolf and the serpent and the gatekeeper of Hel. You will be cast out of Asgard for your transgressions, and join with the forces of darkness to bring about the end of the world. You will strike down the gatekeeper as he strikes you, and so you will meet eternity. You are the instrument of Ragnarök, and you will be consumed by it. So it is written, so it will be.’”

Kali is quiet for a moment. “Grim words.”

“To put it lightly. A touch melodramatic for my tastes as well. Although I do get to kill Heimdall, apparently, so it’s not all bad.”

“And this… Ragnarök,” Kali says. “What do you know of it?”

“As much as I could find it,” Gabriel says. “Which was a lot. The Norse prophecies are extremely specific, except apparently when they’re regarding me. The walls between the realms will be worn thin, and Muspell and Niflheim are meant to move against Asgard. Nearly everyone dies in the conflict. Odin falls to Fenrir, Thor to Jormangar, and Surtr the destroyer will rise up to destroy what’s left.” As if it wasn’t enough that Odin and Thor had to die, they had to be killed by Gabriel’s own brood. He was really not enjoying the irony there.

“Surely there is something here we can use,” Kali insists, starting to pace.

“You don’t understand,” Gabriel snaps. “I’ve looked into everything. Even if we somehow manage to stop one army from marching, we still have an entirely different one to reckon with. And if by some miracle, we manage to stop two separate armies, Surtr will still rise up and put the Nine realms to the torch.”

“Your negativity is extremely unhelpful.”

“I’ll start being positive when I have a reason to be.”

“Fine then. Let’s begin with what we have to work with. Firstly, there’s you and me: beings of immense and slightly less comparable power. We have our weapons, and we have the element of surprise. As of now, everyone believes you will be fighting on the side of evil. We can take advantage of that.”

“I can’t see how,” Gabriel says. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that you have some friends in your own Pantheon that would mind giving us a hand.”

“They are not allowed to interfere in the affairs of other Pantheons.”

“You’re interfering,” Gabriel reminds her.

“I do not do what they tell me to.”

“Fair enough.”

“And what of you?” Kali raises an eyebrow. “You have many unsavory connections, I assume. Are none of them willing to help?”

“I think most of them started edging away during my whole ‘turn evil’ phase,” Gabriel says.

“What of your children?”

He stiffens. “They’re monsters, Kali. They won’t fight with us.”

“Are you so sure? They are intelligent, and immensely powerful. Their aid could tip the scale.”

“Fine then, let’s just pop on over and ask then, shall we?” Gabriel snaps. “Hi Fenrir, long time no see, how’s the whole bound-until-the-end-of-the-world thing coming? Oh by the way, feel like doing your old dad a solid?” He shakes his head. “They’re forces of destruction, sentient or not. You can’t win them over with smiles and promises.”

“Alright,” Kali concedes. “Then what do we do?”

Gabriel sits down and lets his head fall into his palms. “We think of something else,” he says.  
It’s quiet for a while as Kali paces and Gabriel mutters vaguely under his breath, his mind racing through their options and coming up blank. He pounds his hands into his eyes and swears in Enochian under his breath, but no ideas seem to come. He raises his head dejectedly and sees Kali in a similar state of frustration.

“The armies of fire and ice…” Gabriel says ruefully. “That seems to be a bit of poor planning. If memory serves, those two things don’t go together all that well.”

“No,” Kali says, looking at him sharply. “They don’t.”

“Oh,” Gabriel says. “Idea forming.”

“You said the walls between worlds are to be brought down,” Kali says. “Did the prophecy specify which walls?”

“No, they definitely didn’t,” Gabriel says, getting excited now. “There was plenty of wall-talk to be sure, but no specific wall talk.”

“What about Surtr?” Kali asks.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel says, his voice turning excited. “But I’d make a very confidence guess that once we stop the first part of the prophecy from coming true—namely, the fall of Asgard—that dear old Surtr might not get the chance to pop out of the box.” Gabriel breaks into a wild grin. “Ah Kali, I think we might be geniuses.”

“That remains to be seen. First, there is an army that demands our attention.”

 

 

 

The armies of Niflheim would have been impressive—if they had been composed of average beings. However, the armies of Niflheim are composed of monsters and giants, and as a result they are downright terrifying.

“They have a dragon,” Kali observes.

“That would be Nidhogg. Fun gal, once she stops trying to eat you,” Gabriel says absently. Kali has changed into her battle gear, golden bands encasing her arms and ankles just above her bare feet. More striking is the wreath of shrunken skulls also looped around her neck, which Gabriel has neglected to comment on. The plates in her skirt are shaped in the form of golden and bronze arms, their cold fingertips brushing her thigh, the belt of golden faces above them staring at Gabriel judgmentally. A jeweled golden helmet much more like a crown adorns her head, and a scimitar hangs on her hip. The overall effect is more intimidating than Gabriel would care to admit.

He, on the other hand, has no armor, no symbols, and no weapon except for the angel blade he has yet to manifest. “You know, I’m really starting to re-think that whole genius comment I made a few minutes ago,” he says ruefully.

“The plan is still sound. The larger the two armies are, the more damage they will do to each other.”

“Yes, but that also means they’ll do more damage to us.”

“Not if we aren’t stupid. Which for some of us, might be a large assumption.”

“Oh, this is no time for bickering. But you’re also wrong,” Gabriel grumbles. “You remember what you have to do?”

“No, I seem to have forgotten in the past three minutes since we discussed it.”

“A time and a place, Kali. Remember that if your timing is off by just one second, I will end up a smear on the bottom of some ice giant’s boot. And I assure you, I am much less attractive in pancake form.”

“If anyone is going to kill you, it will be me,” Kali assures him.

“Thank you. That is genuinely comforting. Oh, and one more thing.” His arm catches her around her waist, and he pulls her into a kiss. It’s brief and it’s messy, but as far as potential last-kisses go he supposes he could have worse. Kali pins him down with her eyes, just a few inches away from his face, as if she’s memorizing him before she goes. He doubts she would lower herself to anything so sentimental, but Kali is always full of surprises.

“You have two minutes,” she tells him.

“Two minutes is all I need,” he says with a wink. The next minute, he’s gone.

 

 

 

Making your way through an army of ice giants is not as easy as it looks. For a person as short as Gabriel’s vessel, it’s a whole lot harder. The air is so cold around the giants that any mortal would have been frozen solid in an instant. He manages to weave and slip halfway through before people start noticing, and then it’s almost worse than trying to avoid being stepped on. The crowd parts like water around a stone, and Gabriel is left feeling incredibly alone in the wide swath leading to Ymir’s vanguard.

The giant king would normally tower over his subjects like a mountain over the forest, but it seems that all of Jotenheim’s might has emptied out onto the plains. Giants so impossibly large that they nearly threaten the King’s stature pepper the battlefield, along with all the other nasty things that live in the cold and the dark. Nidhogg is a presence all onto herself, her claws crumbling the rocks underneath her as she watches Gabriel with her pale, furious eyes.

He stops a few paces away from the king and inclines his head, a cool smile playing over his lips.

“Loki. Joining us again at last. It’s been so long since one of your little vacations.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been a bit tied up,” Gabriel says. It’s quite possibly the worst joke he’s ever made, but it earns him an ugly laugh that ripples through the ranks of the army in a dissonant mimicry of their king.

“It gladdens me that you have chosen to side with us,” Ymir says. “You always had more in common with us anyways, Loki. Those pathetic excuses for gods up in Asgard never appreciated you like we did. I suppose you’ll want to kill Thor yourself, but Odin is mine.”

“We’ll see who’s quick enough to claim him,” Gabriel says. “The old man shamed and humiliated me, then ordered me tortured for the rest of time. I’d say my claim on his life is just as great as yours.”

“A race of it, then,” Ymir says. “Just as long as we kill more Asgardians than those bastards over in Muspell!” That earns him a rallying cry that seems to shatter the cold air and rain it down on their heads. Gabriel doesn’t join them. His stomach seems to be tying knots in his throat, but his hands are steady.

His sword shoots out of his hand like an arrow, seeking out a strange fleshy vein and burrowing there. Ymir looks down in surprise, hardly seeming to feel it. Gabriel smiles a cold, final smile, and, raising his hand, twists his fist.

An explosion of light expands around the giant’s body, lighting him from the inside like a paper lantern. His head throws back, light pouring out of his mouth, and in the next minute the flash consumes him.

When the light dies down there’s nothing left except a crater in the ice, water hissing and bubbling from the melt where the heat consumed it. The army is thrown into confusion, and in that moment Gabriel leaps down into the steam and reclaims his sword from the wreckage.

“Listen up, you sons of bitches!” he screams, unleashing the full power of his true voice. At once every head turns to look at him, strange and small in the remains of the blast zone, but his eyes seem to glow like white gold. “I never planned on joining you! You’re all pathetic and disgusting creatures, below me! I am a god! And I’ll kill you all like I did your stupid king!” By the end of his contrived little speech, he can feel the fury emanating at him from every side in each narrowed icy gaze. He breaks into a grin.

“What’s wrong? You just going to stand there?” The front line of giants begins advancing, a roar building up as they collapse around him, closing the distance impossibly fast. “That’s right,” he snarls. And with that, praying to whatever beings might be listening that Kali is on her game, he extends his power towards Muspell.

He feels Kali’s influence almost instantly, hooking onto it and then tugging with every fiber of his grace, at the same time that Kali throws the full force of her power against it. The walls between the worlds buckle like rotting wood. There’s no sound, yet at the same time Gabriel could have sworn that it was almost like the musical shattering of glass. A portal opens up around him, sucking in the residual energy of the spell and tugging at him like a whirlpool. He wags his eyebrows at the nearest of the frost giants.

“Come and get me.” He leaps through the portal.

 

 

 

It’s nothing like using the Bifrost. There’s a feeling neither like being hot or cold, but with the same idea behind it, and suddenly he’s in a different place. No being stretched inside out or slammed into the ground; if punching holes through the fabric of reality wasn’t generally considered taboo, he would suggest that they start travelling like this more often.

The earth beneath his feet is black and volcanic, and he can feel the heat of it even through his boots. More noticeable, however, is the massive army of fire giants whose attention is now focused very acutely on a lone figure in their midst.

Kali whirls and slashes in the midst of an inferno, giants falling on her one after another as each of them are destroyed. She seems to devour the flames, sucking them into herself in great sweeping strokes, blasting them apart with a flick of her wrist. Her true form has overtaken her physical one, her skin the blue of lying on the bottom of the ocean and looking up to the surface, her four hands wielding a scimitar. Her armor is battered and singed, molten blood smoldering on its surface. As he watches she grasps a fire giant’s head and cuts it off with a single clean stroke, holding it aloft and opening her mouth in a soundless snarl. Gabriel feels a shiver run down his spine. Kali is terrifying.

But for all that power, he can see she’s steadily weakening. Her strokes get a little shorter each time, the force of her magic dwindling. Gabriel wonders vaguely what she must have done to make them so angry, and he almost smiles.

Luckily for her, the attention of the fire giants is suddenly focused on the surge of frost giants pouring through the portal into their realm, filling the air with steam and shrieks and the two elements collide. Fire sizzles into black coal, the ice giants seem to slough apart like mountains in a mudslide. Before long they’re turning against each other, the bloodlust as each attempts to squash their own god turned on the other army in confusion and rage. In the commotion Gabriel finds Kali, still fighting, although her breath comes hard and her forehead is has a sheen of sweat.

“Come on,” Gabriel says, grabbing her hand despite the fact that it’s on fire. “It’s not every day you get to see the end of the world.”

Kali grins, her eyes dancing viciously, and Gabriel thinks that he’s never seen her look more dangerous. But she lets him pull her away, out of the fighting and towards a rocky outcrop that rises above it. They watch as the cold blue tide pours out of the portal and crashes into the fire army, the fighting growing harder and harder to see through the haze of steam. Both sides are too caught up in the fighting to even consider stopping. With any luck, there won’t be anything left.

Gabriel slides his hand into Kali’s and offers her a smile. “Am I good, or am I good?”

“You’d be dead, if it weren’t for my help,” Kali reminds him.

“The moment, Kali. Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

“I am enjoying it.”

“Good. Me too.”

And that’s when it happens. It’s simultaneously a sound and a thought and a feeling, a single outpouring as somewhere in the cosmos, a heavy door is slowly pushed open.

“No,” Gabriel whispers as the fighting goes on obliviously. “No, this is wrong! We stopped the armies! This shouldn’t happen!”

“What is that?” Kali says. There’s no fear in her eyes, but that’s because she doesn’t understand.

“It’s Surtr,” Gabriel says. “He’s coming.” Even now he can feel him, some enormous black force on the edge of the universe moving faster and faster towards them, like the gentle swelling of the horizon in anticipation of a tidal wave. He knows Kali must feel it too, but her hand merely tightens on the hilt of her sword.

“We fight,” she says simply. Gabriel doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it’s hopeless. They’re both weakened from the strain of sparking this battle, and even if Gabriel had been at his full strength as an archangel they wouldn’t have stood a chance. Surtr’s power is greater than nearly anything, his sword as hot as the sun, and more powerful even than Odin.

Gabriel frowns. For some reason, that thought sticks in his mind. More powerful than Odin—why was that important? He feels as if he’s teetering on something crucially important, but the thought won’t come to him. What else was more powerful than Odin?

And then he realizes.

“Kali,” he says, grabbing her shoulders. “We need to get to my children.”

“Thinking of them in your last moments is very touching,” Kali lies, “but is this really the time for a family reunion?”

“Oh yes,” Gabriel says. “It’s the best time. Trust me on this.”

Kali looks like she’s about to argue, but instead she just nods. “Alright. How are we getting to Asgard?”

“We’ll fly,” Gabriel says, grabbing her hand and launching them into the sky. There’s no time to hide his wings this time, the energy of them buffering as they slip out of Muspell. The Bifrost is nothing but a blur of colors before he’s stumbling through it onto Asgard, gasping at the toll it takes on his power. Even less pleasant is the sudden press of steel to his throat.

“Loki,” Heimdall says, centuries of hatred plain on his face. “How dare you come here.”

Kali stands close at Gabriel’s side, partially holding him up after the toll of flying and slipping through the worlds. Her eyes are dark and unfathomable, though, and the fact that she hasn’t tried to set Heimdall on fire yet makes Gabriel think that this battle is his own. He takes a deep breath and straightens up, the edge of Heimdal’s spear still cold on his skin.

“With all due respect, Heimdall,” Gabriel says, “Cut the crap.” The gatekeeper’s eyes widen, but his grip only tightens on the spear.

“Insolent to the grave,” he says.

“Look, I know you were watching,” Gabriel says, frustration tightening his voice. “You saw what happened. We just saved your sorry asses from invasion from two separate armies. And that means that you also know that Surtr is coming.”

Heimdall says nothing, and Gabriel forces himself to stay calm. “You’ve never trusted me. That’s okay. You’re more right in that then you can ever know, but just this once I am telling you that I can fix things. And all you have to do is let me try.” He shrugs, careful not to move around too much. “Besides, even if I fail, we’re all screwed anyways. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Heimdall’s eyes narrow, and for a second Gabriel honestly thinks he’s about to lose his head. But then, with a sort of crumpling, Heimdall lowers his spear.

“I still hate you,” he assures Gabriel even as he stands aside to let him pass.

“I would never expect anything less of you,” Gabriel says. “If you’re feeling especially helpful, rouse the host of Asgard and send them to Muspell. There’s always a chance the giants might smarten up and stop killing each other.” Without looking to see if Heimdall nods, he grabs Kali’s hand and runs off into the woods.

“It’s not far from here,” he says quickly. He can still feel Surtr’s presence growing steadily closer. It’s almost like watching the shadow of a cloud move steadily across the landscape, a wall of shadows that looks slow but in a second will overtake you. Well, not if he has a say in it.

“Are you going to explain what I saw back there?” Kali says. “You had wings.”

There’s no time to stop running, but Gabriel does so anyways. He grabs her other hand and holds them between their bodies, staring into her eyes with all the honesty he possesses.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. Kali nods. “I’ll tell you the truth, if you ask me. But it won’t make you happy.” She inspects his face, her expression unreadable. After a moment she releases his hands.

“Lead on,” she says. With a smile, Gabriel turns around and breaks into a run again, and this time Kali sprints by his side. He wonders if she knows that he still would have lied to her. He is fairly certain that she does.

Time seems to slow down as it always does in this place as they enter a darker patch of trees, the color seeming to leech out of the world and making the pines look black and the sky a washed-out grey. Sounds seem louder yet come from a long way off as they finally break out of the trees. They stand in a massive circle around an open patch of ground, the other side so far away that they’re nothing but a dark smudge. The steady approach of Surtr fades to a mere hum in the back of Gabriel’s mind, until there’s nothing but him, Kali, and the pale figure sitting in the middle of the field.

“This is your plan?” Kali hisses as they approach. “You told me it couldn’t be done.”

“And I stand by that,” Gabriel says grimly. “It’s much more likely that he’ll kill us all.”

“Ah. Good. I’m glad you’re telling me this now.”

They stop a short distance away as the figure’s head rises. It’s in the shape of a small boy, the vertebrae jutting out of his pale naked back like teeth, his black hair shaggy around his ears. A thin cloth band winds its way around his wrists.

“Loki,” he says. It’s not a child’s voice. “You’ve come.”

“I have,” Gabriel says, not moving any closer. The boy turns around slowly, unwinding his thin body until his eyes meet Gabriel’s. A shiver runs down Gabriel’s spine.

“Why?” Fenrir asks. His mouth is twisted and mal-formed, the hint of sharp teeth flashing as he speaks. Gabriel tries to stay focused on his eyes, which burn with a fiery golden fury.

“To free you,” Gabriel says. He has a feeling that lying will do him little good here.

Still, Fenrir laughs. “Of course. I have waited a long time for this. Odin’s time has come.”

“See, that’s the problem,” Gabriel says. “You’re not going to kill Odin. Not anymore.”

“Thousands of years of prophecy says that I will,” Fenrir says with amusement. “I shouldn’t think you would stop me, either. I’ve grown more powerful than you can even imagine.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Gabriel says.

Fenrir smiles. “You think you can control me. You are wrong. I will devour your Allfather whole.”

Gabriel sighs. “Well, if you’re really so set on the idea. I doubt you could handle it, anyways.” He turns away.

Fenrir’s eyes seem to sharpen. “Handle what?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” Gabriel allows himself a tiny, hidden smile. “I can see I had the wrong idea. We’ll just have to find someone stronger.”

“I am the strongest,” Fenrir snarls, rising into a predatory crouch. “Odin is the most powerful of the gods and he is mine to claim!”

“Most powerful of the gods, yes,” Kali speaks up. “But why settle for him when you could consume one even more powerful than he?”

After a moment, Fenrir sits back. “Who?”

“Surtr,” Gabriel says.

Fenrir laughs. “You would use me as a tool to save your own hides. I am as unsurprised as I am uninterested.”

“Our interest in Surtr hardly matters,” Kali says. “We are offering you a chance to defeat the most powerful being in the cosmos. Your name would be sung of until the end of time.”

“Or whispered in fear, more like,” Fenrir says with a sneer.

Kali shrugs. “The choice is yours. Of course, if you do not believe yourself able to defeat him, there is no shame in backing down.” She pauses. “Actually, there’s quite a great deal of shame in it, but I suppose you would get to live slightly longer to enjoy it.”

Fenrir locks eyes with her, and she doesn’t falter. Gabriel can’t help but think that he sees an uncomfortable amount of similarities between the two of them in that moment. Kali knows pride and bloodlust better than even he could hope to understand.

When Fenrir finally looks up to meet Gabriel’s eyes, he holds out his hands. “Cut my bonds.”

“You’ll kill Surtr, then?” Gabriel asks.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I will kill Odin instead. Either way, you’re going to set me free, because I am your last resort. The best you can do is hope that I decided to play in your favor.”

Gabriel meets his eyes, trying to see something of his intentions in them. He might as well be staring into the sun. His sword appears in his hand and hovers just over the silken ribbon binding Fenrir’s wrists.

“It’s all on you, kid,” he says. The blade slides through the magical cloth with a quiet rip.

A second later Kali wrenches Gabriel backwards as a pair of rapidly enlarging jaws clap shut in the space where his throat used to be. They stumble backwards as Fenrir’s skin explodes with black fur, his bones and muscles twisting until a massive wolf stands in front of them. And then the wolf starts growing.

Kali keeps pulling him away as they run back into the forest, Fenrir getting bigger and bigger behind them. There’s a low howl that could have been an earthquake shivering in the air, and when Gabriel chances a look behind them he sees Fenrir’s broad back rising up over the tops of the trees and then still rising.

“He’s enormous,” Kali breathes as they run.

“Let’s hope it’s enough,” Gabriel says.

As they stumble out of the strange gloom he feels Surtr’s presence anew, a blistering pressure that makes his ears pop and his skin feel too tight. The sun’s light is growing redder by the minute, the sky darkening like an eclipse. Time seems to slow down, skip, and speed up all at once. There is no sound. Behind them there’s a massive tear, and suddenly there’s a gaping hole in the sky where Fenrir should have stood. Behind it they see the blackness from space where all the stars have died, and where some presence is collapsing over them and snuffing out everything. And then it’s gone.

 

 

 

Gabriel doesn’t see the battle. No one does. He does feel it though, Fenrir’s roars a deep reverberation and Surtr a blanket of nothingness. It seems to go on forever, barely on the edge of his perception, until suddenly something snaps and it feels like the pressure is draining out of the air. Gabriel sags against the trunk of a tree and closes his eyes.

“Fenrir,” he says. “It was Fenrir.”

Kali’s tension loosens as well. “It’s over, then?”

“I doubt it. Fenrir is now the most powerful being in the cosmos. We could hardly control him before, and now he’s free again.” Gabriel rubs his face. “Why is my best method of problem-solving to create even larger problems?”

“I wouldn’t worry about Fenrir just yet,” Kali says. “He has proven himself in battle. Pillaging your towns and killing your gods is beneath him now. I don’t know what he’ll do, but I can guarantee it won’t be what you expect.” Gabriel looks at her, and the gleam of knowledge in her eyes is one he’s forced to agree with. Even now he can feel Fenrir pulling away, moving off towards that void of nothingness Gabriel so briefly glimpsed. Whatever happens, it will be a problem for another day. He smiles.

“Want to kiss me?” he asks her.

She seems to think about it. “Yes, I think that might be nice.” Gabriel draws her close and kisses her not like it’s the end of the world, but the start of it. Kali kisses him like she’s still deciding whether that’s the case. Needless to say, there’s a lot of tongue.

“We did it,” he says. “We did do it, right? I’m not hallucinating? Of course not, I don’t hallucinate,” he answers himself. “I can’t believe that worked!”

“Of course it worked,” Kali says. “I was involved.”

Gabriel pulls back and grins at her. “You’re absolutely right. Without your help, this would have tanked. Thank you, Kali,” he says, utterly sincere.

Kali waves him away. “Your sentimentality is noted.” She cocks her head as the sound of the Bifrost opening weaves its way through the trees. “I believe the gods are back.”

“Right,” Gabriel says, deflating ever-so-slightly.

“Will you go to them?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “There’s something I have to do first—one more thing I have to fix.”

 

* * *

 

Finding Crow is surprisingly easy, most likely because he wants to be found. He’s sitting on a mountain top in North America, cross-legged and thoughtful. His eyes are closed, but as Gabriel approaches his weathered face breaks into a smile.

“Loki. I’m glad you came.”

Gabriel sits down a few place away, feeling the warm dirt under his palms. “I guess you know what this is about.”

“I have been keeping tabs on you, yes,” Crow says, opening his eyes to meet Gabriel’s gaze. “You’ve been very busy.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.”

“It’s an honest way of putting it.”

“True.” Gabriel drags his fingers through the dust, making patterns, avoiding the question. Crow is patient. Finally, he breaks. “I need your help,” he admits at last.

Crow just smiles and says nothing. Gabriel sighs and drags harried fingers through his hair. He’s never been good at asking for things.

“I’ve done a lot of bad things recently. Mostly I’ve managed to fix them up alright. But there’s one thing that I can’t fix, and to be perfectly honest I don’t really want to, but it’s important to some people so I guess I probably should.” He forces his hands to rest on his knees. “I want you to bring Baldur back. I may hate the guy, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”

“What makes you think I can retrieve him?” Crow asks, cocking his head to the side. “It’s no simple matter, reversing death. Especially for a god.”

“You’re clever,” Gabriel says. “And that’s more important than any amount of power. If anyone can, it’s you.”

Crow inclines his head, but says nothing. “Why him?”

“Asgard needs him.”

“You care about them,” Crow says with some amusement.

“Yeah,” Gabriel says. “Guess there’s no point in denying it. I ruined things for them, and I’m going to set them right before I go.”

Crow raises an eyebrow. “And where are you going, Loki?”

He meets Crow’s eyes boldly. “I want to join you. I want to be a Trickster.”

Crow smiles. “I’m glad to hear. Yet you’re coming here asking for two things now: to save your…friend, and to join us. That will carry a steep price.”

“Then I’ll pay the steepest,” Gabriel says immediately. “A favor. Anything, at any time.”

“One favor is the admission price,” Crow says. “For this I will require two.”

Gabriel is quiet, but not for long. He doesn’t exactly have a choice in this. Buying a happy present with a miserable future is his specialty, after all.

“Deal,” he says.

Crow rises to his feet. “Bringing Baldur will take time, but you have my word it will be done. When the time is right, we will come to you and teach you our ways. Later still, we will collect our payment. That is a promise.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Gabriel says.

Crow smiles mischievously. “Until next time, ‘Loki’.” Gabriel can hear the quotes around his name. He doesn’t know what they mean, and figures it’s best not to analyze it. Instead he just nods.

“See you then.” In the next moment he’s alone.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel sits on the bow of a ship jutting out over the rocks that gutted its hull. He’s somewhere off the southern coast of Africa, he thinks, but he wasn’t really paying attention to that sort of thing. A swarm of gulls skims over the water and picks at the school of tiny fish glimmering near the surface. It’s warm, and somehow he’s content.

“Well, that certainly could have gone worse.”

Gabriel smiles. “Anna. I thought I might hear from you at some point.” He pauses. “Are you going to thank me, or kick my ass?”

“I’ll decide later,” Anna says. “For now I’ll settle for saying you’re a total idiot, but all things considered you did alright. Well, you managed to fix all the things you originally screwed up. So that’s a start.”

“Damn right I did. Never let it be said that Loki fucks things up and runs.”

Anna smiles ruefully, leaning on the mast and staring out over the waves. “Are you really Loki, then?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “No. I guess not. Even if Asgard would take me back, I don’t belong there. To be honest, I don’t think I belong anywhere anymore.”

“You know you do,” Anna says quietly. “Come home.”

It’s tempting, oh so very tempting. The thought of heaven, the Host’s voices all around him, his brothers smiles—he shakes his head with a sad smile. He may have stopped one apocalypse, but it wasn’t his in the first place. The knowledge of Michael and Lucifer’s prize fight is still there in his grace. There are some things you just can’t change.

“I don’t have a home, Anna. And that’s okay. I don’t really need one. I’m going to be my own god, try my hand at this Trickster thing and do it right this time. Maybe I’ll make a name for myself. Maybe I’ll stick to the shadows. The only thing I know for sure is that this is where we say goodbye.”

Anna’s face is mostly blank angel default, but he could swear her eyes are wet. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Gabriel stands up and steps close to her, resting his hands on his shoulders. “It does. I’m putting heaven and Asgard behind me, and all that entails. No more ties. Just me.”

She nods, her chin sinking down. Gabriel leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t worry about me, sis. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will,” Anna says, her voice catching. “I’m not sure what to do now, Gabriel.”

He tilts her chin up and smiles into her face. “Here’s one last piece of brotherly advice: do whatever the hell you want, and kill anyone who tries to stop you.” Anna breaks a smile, and Gabriel seals it into his memory as he steps away.

“So long, sis,” he says.

“Goodbye,” she replies, her mask already in place. Gabriel approves. The deception will be what saves her.

Unfurling his wings, he shoots into the sky without a backward glance. This time, he’s only looking forward. And somewhere in the future there’s a wildfire burning, and he knows just the goddess to share it with.


End file.
